Good Karma

Good Karma filled our home when Ken's friend, Frank, a Buddhist monk, spent Saturday evening and Sunday morning with us. Frank and Ken were high school friends and they and their Northern Virginia track team buddies have started to get together from time to time to remember their youth. Their get-togethers usually coincide with Frank's trips home from Thailand.

On this trip, Ken brought Frank and his mother here to spend the night before proceeding to Wilmington, North Carolina, where Frank's mother is moving to be closer to her other son. On their way south, Ken will take them to a Thai monestary in Carrollton for a visit. Ken is earning merit, Frank says, due to his kindness.

I have been intrigued by Buddhism since becoming friends with a Buddhist man in 1995. I learned from Xavier and have read a bit, but fresh conversations with a monk have nudged my curiosity and understanding along. I cherry-pick concepts that appeal to me. Multiple lives. Selflessness. Simple living. Community. Good Karma. Frank is a forest monk. As a Master Naturalist, this appeals to me. Yes, the forest, nature, does have a calming and mind-clearing effect. In the words of John Burroughs, "I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order."

March Blooms on Our Wedding Week

Wedding Day Morning

When my daughter announced that March 24 would be her wedding day, I never imagined what a beautiful day it would be. Oh, of course the day was beautiful inside! But it was unexpectedly beautiful outside as well. Redbud and dogwood lined the Colonial Parkway for those traveling from Gloucester to Williamsburg. New leaves painted the sky bright green -- an appropriate tone since the wedding colors were navy blue and Granny Smith apple green.

Wild Columbine

On Tuesday before the wedding, on my way home from teaching school in Gloucester, I stopped at Green Planters and discovered that many new perennials were in stock. I bought blooming Jacob's Ladder to intersperse with my early-blooming Golden Ragwort. The owner told me that many more native plants were expected on Thursday, so I stopped there again. I bought Virginia Bluebells, Creeping Wood Phlox, and Cinnamon Ferns. They fit nicely with the blooming Wild Columbine and, of course, Daffodils that have been blooming since late February. I planted through the twilight, until dark fell and the first guests arrived.

Our family gathers around

My husband found the perfect quote for me in a comic strip that appeared in the Washington Post that Thursday: "In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt" (Margaret Atwood). A little bit of it was still under my nails, freshly manicured on Friday in a opaque shade of buff pink.

On Saturday it rained midday, hard enough to wash the church parking lot. Streams yellow with pollen carried it away just in time. The bride was told that rain on your wedding day is a sign of good luck. As the guests began to arrive, so did the late afternoon sunshine.

Southern Toad

It's 9 p.m. and still 70 degrees outside on this unseasonably warm night. Through the screen door I hear the call of a lone Southern Toad. According to eNature they emerge from their burrows after twilight to forage for insects. They breed from March to October in temporary water pools. It's been raining a lot lately and the yard is full of soft spots, so this must be an excellent time for mating. Ah yes. I believe I hear more than one now.

Early March Blooms

Golden Ragwort - first blooms

On March 28, 2011, I took photos of the flowers, shrubs, and trees in my yard and wrote about them in a blog post so that I would have a record of botanical progress to have for year-to-year comparison. Well, as I said in last weekend's post about a Mourning Cloak Butterfly, 2012 has been a year for the record books. Today, when I looked around the yard, I saw Golden Ragwort beginning to bloom and it is pictured here. (The photo of Golden Ragwort in full bloom that I inserted in another post last year was taken on April 19, 2011!) So, yes indeed, things are blooming earlier.

Pulmonaria (Lungwort)

Another plant that I mentioned was blooming on March 28, 2011 in last year's post was Pulmonaria, or Lungwort. Like daffodils, which have been blooming for several weeks now, the Lungwort is native to Europe and Asia. I've watched these plants with interest, of course, (my yard was appropriately full of blooming Daffodils on St. David's Day) but  they are not native to North America and I've really been paying closer attention to my native plants. I want to see how they are reacting to climate change.  (In which, the polls say, more people now believe.)

Wild Columbine

Another native plant that I saw sending up shoots and preparing to bloom on March 28 last year was Wild Columbine. Yes, the same plant in my yard is just about at the same point in its preparation to bloom this year, but more than 3 weeks earlier. In another post from last year, I noted that I was enjoying watching Wild Columbine bloom in April.

The botanical progress that I documented last year showed trees leafing at the same time that the native plants were blooming. I'm not seeing that this year, but the buds are fat. Any day now.

My daughter is getting married in 3 weeks. Will the Dogwoods and other trees be leafing out by then? I do remember that on my first wedding day, 28 years ago on Derby Day in early May, the Dogwoods were beautiful in Williamsburg!

Mourning Cloak Butterfly

Mourning Cloak Butterfly

The temperature in this part of Virginia set a record yesterday. I saw 84 degrees on my computer's Google gadget, but the paper says it only made it to 82. Anyway, that's still about 30 degrees warmer than the average temperature in February should be.

So, you can imagine my surprise when a butterfly swooped by and landed in my garden. And wouldn't you know I had my camera in my hand? I snapped a quick shot of the phenomena and downloaded it today. But a little research proved that this was not, however, unusual. Did you know that the Mourning Cloak is the state butterfly of Montana?

I would guess this has to do with the fact that the Mourning Cloak is a sign of summer that our northwestern friends cherish on a snowy day. Ahh! A butterfly in the snow. I recommend an article in Nature North to those who wish to learn a little more about this bug. The long-lived butterfly overwinters and hibernates. When it emerges, it mates and dies soon after.

I hope my little Mourning Cloak finds a friend.