Second Bloom Wednesday, 30 April 2008

Siberian Elms bloom three times each spring.

They bloom first in late March when flower buds open into simple green-brown cups; wind-pollinated flowers need no showy petals to attract insects.

They bloom second in late April as their single-seeded samara fruits, leaflike and green, mature in bunches. House Finches and Fox Squirrels shuck the fruits to gorge on the seeds; but so prolific are the Elms that hordes of Finches and Squirrels could not dent the samara supply.

Flowers spent and fruits sloughing, the Siberians threaten to go bare. But the third bloom is coming.

Life always offers another bloom.

American Avocets Tuesday, 29 April 2008

The American Avocet demonstrates how gangly can be lovely.

It sports a long, thin beak that curves upward at the tip; a smallish head atop a long, slender neck; a modest body; and peculiar legs that are average length hip to knee, extra long knee to ankle with exceptionally long feet below the ankle.

An Ichabod Crane of a bird, it nevertheless manages its body parts quite well.

To see Avocets slow-prancing through a marsh is to witness birds bring artistry to the simple act of walking. Each step is a performance.

They should be waltzing back any day now.

Redbud Monday, 28 April 2008

Day by day, a few miles farther north with each sunrise, Redbuds creep into bloom.

Almost dainty, they do not acquire the mass, girth, or height of cottonwoods, proving magnificence requires more than size.

From saplinghood Redbuds exhibit a natural bonsai character achieved without pruning shears. They bear heart-shaped leaves and modest legumes that develop from exquisitely purple flowers.

Where wild, Redbuds grow squeezed among larger trees. Here, they grow in nooks of yards and crannies of parks.

If poetry were a plant, it would be a Redbud; for a Redbud in bloom is aesthetic nutrition for the naturalist s soul.

Fox Kits Sunday, 27 April 2008

Red Foxes could teach us much about elegance. They are born with the capacity for elegance, but capacity alone does not allow them to walk a fence or cross a field with fluid grace.

Capacity is an empty vessel: learning is the pouring, experience the filling.

Fox kits are now frolicking from their dens, and to watch them is to witness the conversion of empty capacity into full ability. Every sneaky pounce on a sibling s tail is an act of learning, a drop of experience.

Like foxes, our own life elegance is the summation of our own pouring and filling.