In every place there are certain signs that winter is loosing it’s grip, and spring has finally arrived. Here in the high desert of New Mexico, we have our signs as well. The sun rises earlier, and the days are longer. It’s wonderful, you have time to do those things there are never enough daylight hours for, but that’s not the true sign of spring.
The bare trees have a new spring green color to the tips of their branches. A color like none other, it’s a fresh spring green, light, and bright, and full of promise, but that’s not the real sign of spring. The barn is suddenly full of commotion, as birds now fill the rafters with amorous chirps, and spring-cleaning. They bustle here, and there picking up bits of hay, and fur, which the horses gladly provide. There are arguments as each fights for the best spots, perhaps building new nests or refurbishing old ones, but that doesn’t mean that spring is here to stay.
Everywhere you go there are fragile blades of green bravely finding their way through last summer’s dried grasses. Weeds of course are the first to brave the longer warmer days. You primp, and trim, fertilize, and seed yet it is the weeds you don’t want that find their way against all odds popping up everywhere. We have this one creeper with beautiful bright purple flowers. A whole field can be carpeted with them. There is also the one with silver gray leaves, and lovely pink lavender blossoms, known as the Loco weed. I have found them through out the area. I think they look so pretty just to entice creatures to graze on them only to get hooked on them. I carry Round-up in the gator so I can spray them when I see them. Still and all they are only precursors of spring.
Some cultivated flowers push through in winter’s last gasp. The local fauna don’t touch the weeds of course, but flowers seem to taste mighty good, as the tips of their leaves are nicely squared off instead of pointed as nature intended. You don’t see them during the day, but at night when you turn the outside lights on you will see them scurrying across into the shadows, little white cotton tails bouncing up and down. They are not the only ones busy. The winter beat down the sandy dirt mounds with no vegetation in a perfect two-foot or larger circle. This needs to be tidied up, and the ants whose home it is, start their housekeeping. They must build up their mound again, which can be as large as a foot tall, but this still doesn’t mean that spring is just around the corner.
Then there are the hummingbirds. Most come in summer, but there is one couple that comes early, usually around March when the nights are still cold. We never know when they will come, they are sometimes early, and sometimes late. This year they are late. No spring here yet.
Cows are dropping their calves, and deer their fauns. You can see tiny deer droppings amongst the larger droppings, and you know a faun has visited. If you are around in the early morning you might see a group of three or four doe’s with a baby or two. The deer are very plentiful, in town they are actually pests as they have become so accustomed to people they wonder across streets with no never mind. Actually some of them have learned to watch the traffic. The problem comes when a slow poke tries to make it across to join her fellows, and cars have started to go down the road again. Fauns following their moms are also causalities if they’re not quick enough. Babies abound everywhere, and the snakes are out in the afternoon gathering as much warmth as the sun can offer, but they come before spring is full, and winter may still show his face.
The horses of course give their own signs. At first it’s only a little fur that comes off on your hands, then it’s clumps, and even if you brush them every day it’s not enough. The dogs too are shedding. That’s when you appreciate shorthaired dogs. They of course let you know when spring is here. Just before you start to slip off to sleep at night they decide to sound off. Then comes the wafting perfume that seeps in through the doors, and windows no matter how tightly they are closed. Come morning the outside dogs greet you all excited because they did such a good job the night before. They have proof as they are coated in the nauseating perfume. You walk around, and sure enough you find the creature they protected you from. Stinky, stinky, stinky, it’s the first skunk of the season. Now you know spring is here to stay.
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