March: The Month of Firsts - Barbolian Fields

First…

Daffodils and Dandelions
Red Flowering Currants
Nanking Cherry and Honeyberry Blossoms
Purple Deadnettle, Stinging Nettles, and Chickweed
Bumblebees, Ladybugs, Butterflies
Frogs

AND the long-awaited First Day of Spring

March Sings of the Start of Spring…

March is an exciting month — a time of transitions. We go from making snow angels to stomping through mud puddles almost overnight. But the change can be confusing. Almost warm one day, to everything covered with thick frost the next, and back again, reminding us to remember our layers.

The first day of spring (or autumn for our friends down under) seems to be a moving target. There are three common starting gates:

The meteorological spring, in which the season fits neatly within the Gregorian calendar months of March-April-May, begins March 1. Summer begins June 1, etc. Simple. Straightforward. Ok.
The astronomical spring, or vernal equinox, honored throughout the world for thousands of years, occurs when the axis of the Earth is perpendicular to the Earth/Sun line, making day and night approximately equal all over the planet at the very same time, which is certainly reason enough to celebrate. This year, that moment occurred on March 20.
The phenological spring varies according to what’s happening – first new leaves, first blooms, first dragonflies, etc. According to the USA National Phenology Network, the PNW coast (our location) is about 2 weeks late this year. Interactive maps show the changes across the country. Some say when the forsythia blooms, it is time to plant peas, which I did. I think something ate them.

In our family, we recognize all three: spring celebrations begin on the 1^st, followed by a little happy dance on the 20th, and exclamations throughout the month whenever we find new flowers, spot ladybugs and butterflies, or hear frogs croaking.

Spring gives us good reasons to sing!

The March Garden at a Glance

Early March, regardless, still feels like winter, and most of the garden agrees. A walk through the garden allows us to still see the spaces between. The bindweed, lurking beneath the soil surface, still sleeps. The shrubs are still in their skeletal form, allowing us to see between the branches to the inner gardens, before the leaves hide the entries to the portals. A glance to one side or the other might allow you to see something you might not notice straight on. And yet… that sliver of lime green around the edges, highlighted at the low angles of the sun in early morning and evening, can make the whole garden seem slightly illuminated. We eagerly watch for the first signs that warmer weather is on the way: the swelling of buds, small shoots coming out of the ground, a few tiny flowers. Yesss….

Early spring whispers hope.

March is Full of Wonders!

We are, indeed, in the middle of a transformation. Just a few weeks ago, all was winter quiet. A few weeks later, it seems the world is splashed with the bright yellows of daffodils, dandelions, forsythias, and mahonia. And I have to wonder, where did all these daffodils come from? Look how they have found these odd places, like at the edge of the field or over the bluff at the edge of the road, cheerfully proclaiming to every passerby, it is, indeed, spring.

Not just yellow – but pink! And not just any pink, but deep magenta. The first red flowering currant blossoms are a magnet for hummingbirds, bumblebees, and – what – honey bees! I no longer “keep” bees (although I have a few open hives if they want to move in). This mass of shrubs will soon be solid pink and vibrating with buzzing! So exciting!

I have to ask — is this what it is like to get older, where the changing of the season seems all that much more intense and flamboyantly colorful – high drama in our own backyards — how we notice the intricacy of nature’s choreographed dance – how each flower has evolved over the eons to attract its favorite pollinator at just the right time: “Come to meeee,” the siren sings, and the tiny insects, bees, and hummingbirds respond, grateful in this early spring for pollen and sweet nectar, clinging to stems and all of life when a sudden gust can threaten to blow them away.

Life truly is full of wonders, and it is a wonder any of it can happen at all. The timing has to be just so perfect. We must be careful not to mess this up.

March is also full of surprises! So many free-spirited, self-seeding kales, mustards, chickweed, nettles, and miner’s lettuce. (Asparagus is not quite up yet.) Spring is a forager’s delight. Make pesto with gusto!

Wonder-ful!

Spring Nettles – tastes like spinach, only better

March is Movement

The wind can be crazy in March. It can roar down this corridor along the Strait of Juan de Fuca between the US and Canada from any direction and often changes its mind in mid-air. 35 mph is not uncommon. We had 22 days this month with winds of 20 mph or more; 9 of those were over 30 mph, with the highest topping out at 46 mph. I am currently watching the tops of the fir trees across the way – how tall are they? Maybe 200 feet? The trees are planted close together, and they all lock arms as the wind pushes them back and forth and lifts their draping lower branches. The tops are more spindly and wave almost violently.

We see the wind by what it moves.

(I see you.)

But I do not see birds at the feeders.

They know when to hunker down.

We should pay attention.

March is a Time for Listening

March goes from quiet to quite loud. By mid- to late-March, there is a distinct increase in bird voices. From early morning greetings to mid-day chatter to evening closings, everyone seems to be calling out to one another. The sparrows, in particular, have so many different songs. There is also more activity: posturing around the feeder to proclaim dominance; chasing each other in aerobatic twirls around the shrubs; the calls between eagles, who are adding to the gargantuan nest across the field; ravens, jaybirds, flickers, doves – all with distinctive loud calls. The newfound energy in preparing for mating and nesting is palpable.

Dusk. Whoosh – the beat of wings. It’s the beginning of the night shift.

It occurs to me, when the cacophony of political noise becomes unbearably loud, all we need to do is step outside and listen to the quiet symphony of nature.

Calm.

We hear coyotes in the distance – another first for the year. They yip and yap at each other and fill the night under the bright light of the full moon, known this month as the “worm” moon because the worms are stirring in the warming soil.

The robins told me that. There are suddenly a lot of them.

March 13-14 Celestial Events: Full Lunar Eclipse

It is a special night: The moon moved into the Earth’s shadow, which from our point of view, turned it a dusky red, thereby giving it the moniker, the “blood moon.”

Why red? To my best understanding, during the eclipse, the moon is in a shadow, but not complete darkness. Seen from Earth, our atmosphere scatters the short wavelengths of blue and green, leaving the longer orange and red wavelengths still illuminated by the sun.

Lunar Eclipse — I know. It doesn’t look all that red to me, either. Still very cool.

Orion shines brightly to the south; Venus, Jupiter, Arcturus … all easy to pick out. But it is cold and late, and despite the thrill of the eclipse, I am ready to call it a day.

At the house, I notice a moth on the door. Soft, beautiful. Another first for the season. I turn out the porch lights. “Fly away, moth. Seek shelter; lay eggs.” I whisper.

Good night,

And may you enjoy this wonderful, blustery season when everything shows such determination to grow and prepare for the next generation of seedlings and hatchlings!

Spring is faith in the future and that life will carry on!

Sing a birdsong,

Blythe

AND … For the record…

March Motivates: Things We Did

We are so very eager to get our hands back in the dirt, but the ground is often too wet, and we risk compacting it. I am still holding off on cleaning up debris, because insects still need shelter. But there are plenty of other things to clean – and also some pruning to finish. We just need to pick our times between passing storms. On our little homescape, a few of the March activities included:

Cleaning the greenhouse: currently filled with an assortment of overwintering potted plants; it will soon be time to acclimate them to the great outdoors: cuttings of aronia, currants, and honeyberries; American groundnut vines; wasabi (already blooming!) I contemplate how I could make better use of this space. Maybe I should plant vegetables, like normal people. Right now, though, I am dreaming of indigo.

Wasabi blooms early in the greenhouse, but it is too cold to go ourside yet. It's that in-between season.

Wasabi in pots, almost ready to go outside. They prefer cool weather, shade, moisture. The greenhouse will soon be too warm.

Cleaning out the little pond we hand dug years ago. The sound of the first frog signaled I had to get right on it! I wouldn’t want to scoop out their eggs with the leaves. It would be like throwing the babies out with the bathwater (a terrible expression).
Cleaning out the beehive: debris on the doorstep was a clear sign that something had wintered over inside. When I lifted the lid, three startled little mice looked up at me and scampered off. The nest was large! Fluffy. Comfortable. Sorry, friends. There were probably more – and 3 or 4 quickly adds up to 16 or 20. I emptied the nest and cleaned out the hive. Two days later, they had rebuilt. A beautiful nest with bits of green moss and what looked to be shredded nettle fiber. This time, I did not put the hive back together. The worst of winter is over. The nearby blackberry bush is a great place for wee ones.

Mouse Nest 1 - a cozy place for winter - and some honey comb for snacks, too

Mouse Nest 2 - with fresh moss and shredded fibers - not quite finished

Coppicing the willows: it still bothers me to cut them back so severely. I always leave some to produce pollen for early pollinators. I was not able to tackle the Willow Room (again) this year. It has become its own being, comprising many trunks and personalities throughout the seasons. It is shelter to so many birds, I can’t even count – and also to the insects they seek. It is a wonderful windbreak against systems coming in from the west, which the majority of ours do. I love the willows.

Coppiced Willow Throne — (Yikes! I really pruned her again! But the Willow Throne will grow back! Check out last month’s post for a before photo.)

Harvesting the bamboo … uh oh, it wants to dominate the world.
Collecting cottonwood buds from fallen branches after storms. If picked after they have had a chance to swell and become sticky with healing resin, they are particularly good for making salves.