A Rush of Beauty

The beauties of spring start as a trickle: a few blades of grass here, a dandelion there, a certain blue in the sky, trees hazy with the suggestion of new leaf. Then the trickle becomes a flood, as lawns and fields suddenly turn emerald, wildflowers appear and begin to spread, the sky deepens to azure, and trees burst into heady bloom, sending puffs of ineffable sweetness along the breeze.

Much of this loveliness is transitory; the blossoms that shine one week are often gone by the next. This is why wildflower-loving cyclists carry cameras.

Here are two weeks' worth of the rushing beauty of spring, as seen on several rides.

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Wild plum blossom in the last few days of April (how I wish I could include the scent):

Less thrilling, but still exciting to winter-starved eyes, is the first wave of humble wildflowers, like field pennycress and yellow-rocket growing along the river trail:

And garlic mustard, or Jack-by-the-Hedge, blooming along country roads:

Delicate white serviceberry blossoms appear, peeking out from the edge of a wood...

...with a rare patch of mayapple on the wood floor behind them:

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On my first May ride, taken a week ago today, spring proves particularly distracting.

The first stop (of many) is to photograph a new-to-me wild apple tree in full bloom:

At its foot sprouts a morel, with more nearby:

(No, I didn't pick them, though I hear they're delicious.)

The next stop is at a favorite bend in the road, where shadowed water flows silently under a bridge to reflect the trees beyond, while swallows swirl overhead:

On the sunward side of the bridge, a pair of geese floats on the shining stream:

A mile or two later, another stop to snap this leafy spurge flowering by the roadside:

Then up a hill and down the other side, and around a corner, to pause for photos of wild violets...

...and a venerable lilac, growing in the middle of nowhere, that blooms with abandon every spring. Tallulah asks for a sniff:

"Mmmmm," she says. "I do love lilacs."

"So does someone else," I say, and point upwards. Over our heads, a swallowtail dances from cluster to cluster:

Spring doesn't get any better than this. :)

Around another corner, then down a long gentle slope past a favorite oak tree:

Round the next bend I spy some tall wild asparagus nearly going to seed (it's early this year!), and stop to pick a handful:

Then, a few miles later, another stop where one of my very favorite wildflowers is in bloom - Jacob's ladder or Greek-valerian:

I know only two spots where this wildflower grows, which makes it seem extra special.

A few hundred yards on, we see a Very Distant Cousin of Tallulah's in the middle of the road. Again we stop, and Tallulah calls out a friendly greeting, but the VDC is exceedingly shy and disinclined for conversation.

Hello, Very Distant Cousin!

So we content ourselves with encouraging it to finish crossing the road, and wave goodbye as it disappears into the grass on the other side.

Stay safe.

("Now it won't end up flat like some of the other turtles we've seen along the way," says Tallulah with a sigh of relief.)

Around the next corner is a marsh dotted over with marsh marigold:

A wild apple tree leans out over the water's edge:

When we reach home, the wild asparagus is transferred from my pocket...

...to the kitchen, where it features as the star ingredient in an omelette the next morning:

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On Sunday's ride, wild anemone are just beginning to bloom in shady stretches under the trees:

I pass a group of small trees growing along a fence, covered in tiny pink-spotted blossoms:

Perhaps another variety of plum? These have very little scent compared with the white plum blossom shown above, but they're lovely to look at.

Around the next corner, friendly cattle watch me pass:

A large outbuilding behind them sports a rather heraldic-looking barn quilt:

Then down one hill and up another to the windy prairie, where turbines spin lazily, harvesting energy from the air:

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On Monday evening I take a short ride around the village, and see rosy flowering crab in the local park:

Mystery blossoms at the edge of a neighbouring marsh:

And pale young oak leaves like spectral fingers, with trailing flowers behind:

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Rather than end on this ghostly note, I'll post one more photo. Can you guess what these flowers are?

Collard blossom! Last year's collard and kale plants were still in the ground when spring came, and when I saw them putting out new leaves, I decided to leave them there for a bit to see what they would do. Before long they bolted, and we now have a large patch of surprisingly tall and unexpectedly pretty yellow flowers. They're very cheery, and very popular with the local bumblebees. I'll keep them until I'm ready to plant this year's garden at the end of the month, when out they'll come. Until then, we (and the bumblebees) will enjoy the show.

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Watch for a free dishcloth pattern in my next post!

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