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Up here in the mountains, Spring is “springing” gradually. The new season is deliberate in its unfolding, unlike the valley where it tends to burst out with an explosion of sudden color and invasion of pollen.

Little by little on this land, the flowers are starting to bloom. A couple weeks ago, it was a lone dandelion nestled bravely in the middle of the meadow and a couple of tiny violets in the side-yard. Now these are joined with a few others. Baby’s breath is making its first appearance.

Down by the river is a very interesting flowering plant which James and I were not familiar with. I emailed this picture to D. (our dear friend L.’s partner) in Nevada City who identified it. Of course, it’s a trillium.

Fascinating flower. It is relatively rare in this country, and is in fact illegal to pick in Michigan, New York, Oregon and Washington, along with British Columbia. It is the designated flower of the province of Ontario, featuring prominently on the Franco-Ontarian flag.

According to Wikipedia: “Trillium is one of many plants whose seeds are spread by ants and mice. Trillium seeds have a fleshy organ called an elaiosome that attracts ants. The ants take the seeds to their nest, where they eat the elaiosomes and put the seeds in their garbage, where they can be protected until they germinate. They also get the added bonus of growing in a medium made richer by the ant garbage.”

There are easily a hundred of these plants growing on our land, first encountered on the new trail that we have been blazing through the tangled blackberry bushes, then in more concentrated clumps along the tiny creek near the river. Some have begun to bloom, but not all have done so yet.

We walk the trail each morning to check on the progress of the flowers, and trod carefully around the trilliums growing in the middle of the path. The plants are extremely fragile. I will post a picture of the trilliums in their glory when more bloom.

L.’s daffodils are now in full bloom at the bottom of the meadow, near the path leading down to the river cabin. They are such beautiful, yet delicate flowers, so intimately associated with the coming of Spring. The weight of the brilliant yellow petals at last bends the stems earthward.

James picked up this worm in the middle of the trail (where most interesting things seem to reside lately!) the other day:

Our new trail leads down to the creek which trickles down to the river (seen in the last post’s ladder waterfall). I love this picture; it is so inviting. I can hardly wait for summer!

Trees grow along the cliffs near the river entrance. James had me take this shot of the branches swirling in interesting patterns. The perspective is misleading; the gravel in the background on our private beach is actually about twenty feet below the camera!

The sound of the rushing water is so soothing. For risk of waxing too eloquent, yet again — we are so very blessed to live here!

The river is endlessly fascinating to me. Sit back and take in the wonderful sight and noise of the rushing water:

I must continue to express my thanks as often as possible, because I never, ever want to take this for granted.