"The beautiful spring came, and when nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also." — Harriet Ann Jacobs

Long ago and far away a little girl sat on the floor of her bedroom in a puddle of sunshine on a round, white, felted rug. In front of her was a small, red plastic record player. A record was happily spinning away and the sound of a slightly scratchy, crackly song began to fill the space. 

Up there little bird, can you hear little bird,

Can you see what we can see?

Spring is springing through the land

On every hedge and every tree.

Up to that point in my life I had never really seen a springy spring, and I can honestly say that I have not seen one in all the years that came after that moment. Until now.

   For the last few years our winters and springs have been uncommonly dry. Indeed, we had one winter a few years back when Mount Ashland got so little snow that the ski resort could not even open. Locals were shocked, and skiers and snowboarders bereft. Because of the lack of rain and snow, the water levels in our reservoirs were way below normal. In fact our Ashland reservoir, which is used for recreation as well as water storage, was muddy and sludgy. The range lands on our side of the valley became so dry that they were a sad yellow, or toasted brown, color all year long. In the forests the trees looked tired, the leaves crisp around the edges.

   This winter and spring it was uncommonly wet, and we were delighted every time another rain storm chose to visit our area. As a result, our valley is experiencing a spring that is springing. I cannot remember a time when the grass on the range lands on our side of the valley has ever been this green. Indeed, both the lawns in town and the grasses on the range are growing at such a pace that in places it is a foot (or more) tall. Everywhere I look there is so much green; fresh, bright, light greens; rich, deep, and dark greens; and every shade of green in-between. 

   Not only is the grass celebrating our bonanza of water, but our flowering trees and shrubs are positively drunk on the stuff, gleeful in their production of blooms.

   When I started walking again, the first of the cherry trees had just started blooming, alongside the ornamental pears, plums, and apple trees. Since then, I have watched as the quince bushes came into bloom, and the camillas covered their bushes with so much riotous color that it was almost embarrassing. Then a second round of cherry trees, a double blossom variety, started to show off their frothy, showy, ballerina pink spring attire. Crabapple trees joined the blooming party with pink or fuchsia flowers, and last week I saw redbud blooms turning a deep purple. On Monday I noticed that the dogwoods were just opening their cup like flowers, and by yesterday the trees that produce delicate, peach colored blooms were blushingly joining the party.

   On the trails, I have seen wildflowers that are completely new to me, and both the madrones and the manzanitas are flowering. The madrones produce small, white, bell like flowers, while the manzanita’s flowers, also bell shaped, are tinged a delicate pink. 

   Our floral neighbors are not the only ones who have been caught up in this spring extravaganza. I have also noticed that the wild creatures that call this place home have been out and about in large numbers. The deer, which usually look rather thin and mouth-eaten at this time of year, are looking sleek and bright-eyed. In addition, I have seen large rafts of wild turkeys crossing roads and exploring gardens, and their ridiculous songs ring across the narrow valley of Lithia Park. For the first time I have also heard the songs of frogs and toads who are living in the irrigation ditches. Usually these ditches are mostly dry at this time of year, but now, thanks to all the rain that we have received, there is enough water there for these amphibians to set up house, and they are singing their hearts out at full volume.

   I can honestly say that I have never seen a spring quite like this one, and I feel incredibly grateful because the smells, sights, and sounds that I am experiencing are a boon to my weary brain, my ragged heart, and by jaded soul. 

Woodblock prints by Toshi Yoshida and Hajime Namiki