My old biology professor wanted us all to be sun worshippers. The capacity of plants to capture the energy of the sun and transmit that energy to the rest of creation seemed miraculous to him.
And though he tried to teach thick-headed country boys the mathematics and chemistry of this transfer of energy, the fact that it happens at all — aside from the fact that it happens routinely, relentlessly — seemed too much to believe.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age. …
My green age is gone, but I love watching the force that makes new leaves and flowers.
Eastern redbuds, Cercis canadensis, are blooming, and yellow jessamine, Gelsemium sempervirens, would make you think that pines can flower like dogwoods.
Red chokeberry, Aronia arbutifolia, more shrub than tree, is putting out clusters for white flowers. A chokeberry is like a wild plum. One plus one makes a thicket.
I’d reported seeing tiny bluet, Houstonia puslia, earlier. But now I see streaks of them, 20-foot purple smudges along the trail. Mixed in are mouse-ear chickweeds in genus Cerastium. They have tiny white blossoms.
Some things are blooming, but many plants are still dormant. Last year’s crop of broomsedge bluestem, Adropogon virginicus, is still standing, tall and brown.
You see the combination of old and new, life and decay, all over the forest. You see the contrast even on the same plant. On a post oak, last year’s leaves were clinging to the lower branches. High above, the brown leaves were gone, and new leaves were unfolding.
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