The delicate birch twigs that etch the clear blue skies of March now dangle with catkins, and the gray, fuzzy buds of pussy willow swell. Brave crocus break though the still frosty ground, opening their petals to the sun. Beneath the blanket of leaves that has covered the herb garden throughout its long winters sleep, the peppermint is sending out new runners, and tiny whorls of woodruff leaves dot the ground. In the woodland garden, patches of moss grow a thick, lush green, and the strange and exotic flowers of the skunk cabbage bloom.
A love struck starling throws back his head and sings a courting song to his mate, who already wears the sleek, black feathers of spring, while in the open meadows flocks of migrating robins graze in the still-brown grass. In the hedgerows, cock pheasants, like phoenixes come to life from an ancient Chinese vase, challange one another with fierce displays of feathers and spurs.
On a day in March, while the herb garden still lies dormant under its blanket of leaves, when crocus and snowdrops begin to push through the frosty earth and when the pussy willow buds begin to break and the robins return to their ancestral nesting sites- take a moment to immerse yourself in the wonderous cycle of life happening all around you.
