Years ago,
if you had asked me my favorite season, I would have echoed responses given by folks
around me—spring. Images of newness, rebirth, and returning life drew me like a
magnet draws iron filings.
Magazines’ subtle messages influenced
me. Pastel colors made me want bury my
arms elbow-deep in winter-fallowed soil filled with writhing earthworms. Budding leaf and flower photos delivered messages
that made me want to dig out a fishing pole and a can of worms to make a date with a crappie at a
nearby fishing hole.
Even now I feel those urges, but I
also find myself missing details I notice once plants lose leaves, turning nature black and white. Did color TV have the same effect on viewers? Did we become so enthralled with colors and
their effects that we missed subtleties we might have picked up watching an old
black and white movie?
Don’t get me wrong, I love leafy trees
and flowers anywhere I find them. But I miss
seeing hidden parts of nature during summer.
What gets hidden by spring and
summer growth? Bird nests and squirrel
nests for a start. After leaves fall, I discover how many critters raised
families near me. Take a drive to check tops of leafless trees. The woods are a bustling residential area.
An oriole’s bright orange catches
my eye as it flashes by. Once leaves fall, I realize that little fellow wasn’t
just a visitor. It’s mate nested in a
snug little sleeping bag of woven grasses in a tall cottonwood I drive under every
day on my way to work. Once spring leaves
unfurl, that nest is hidden.
We share our
the creek with a heron rookery. Throughout fall and winter, seeing their
empty nests reminds me temperatures will warm as days grow longer.
During leafless months, I count nests
and smile to think how many more heron pairs have taken up residence in creek side
trees. Since the first week in March, I
have watched them on the nest.
Silhouetted against the evening sky, one nestles into the bowl of the
nest while the other stands watch with legs like black toothpicks against an
orange sunset.
Once leaves emerge, I only see herons as they
fly to and from nests or as they spear their main course in nearby waterways. So much green makes a mystery of their
nesting and fledging young.
It isn’t
just leafed-out trees that hide nesting birds.
After leaves fell from my lilac bush last fall, I discovered why we’d seen
a brown thrasher near our porch. She’d
been looking for insects to take to her nest in our lilac thicket. We walked past her nest hundreds of times
without noticing.
I enjoy the
warmth and leaves spring and summer bring.
I enjoy promises of new beginnings. However, I have learned to relish discoveries
I make when leaves drop and allow me to know more about a world that spring and
summer hide.
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