The surprising flower of beaked hazelnut is the first sign of spring for me, next the blush of red maple flowers that wash over the hillsides. Finally the richness of unfurling leaves. I am glad to be alive (in spite of those other things). Thank you Bryan.
Sorry, Bryan, I can’t help myself. What is the color pundits use to describe all those Republican-dominated states that comprise the backbone of Trump’s MAGA movement? You know, the kind of legislators working to undermine environmental laws. Oh, yeah, I remember: Those are called RED states.
Of course, I don’t want to overlook that Democrat legislators in the blue state of Vermont, legislators who identify themselves as being “green,” are working pretty assiduously to shrink Vermont’s environmental laws. They’ve got me seeing red, too.
Bryan, what an absolutely wonderful ode to Spring, dressed in reds. There is nothing more stunning than rounding a corner of a trail—coming face to face with the first red trillium, below the sunshine yellow of a Forsythia in full bloom. The eye traveling higher to meet the lime green leaves of a Silver birch just beginning to unfurl. And towering above them all, the red blooms of the Silver Maple. Set against cerulean blue sky—the delightful rapture of Spring.“…those reds aren’t colors — they’re feelings.” Gosh we are lucky to live in VT.
For the relative sanity here, for our spirit, for our independence, and for the red and green and yellow and other delights you describe, I heartily agree, Lor! We're so damned lucky!
Bryan, I had the privilege of visiting the Long Point Bird Observatory yesterday for a story I’m writing. Since it’s still too early for warblers, the biggest excitement at the bird feeder was a red-headed woodpecker. Even when it playing coy in the bushes behind, its head gave away its location. Not a spring bird per se, but still the red of spring.
A red-headed woodpecker that far north -- sounds EXACTLY like Long Point. I've never been there. Always wanted to go. The flights can be profound, as I'm sure you know. Send me a link to your piece when it's done, Brian!
I was seeing the red in my landscape last Fall also. Thinking about how it is such an overlooked color here in the 4 Corners of the Southwest. Here we have red dirt (really pink), in some places, left over from the weathering Navajo Sandstone, formed during Late Triassic to Early Jurassic times. But we do have a few plants that age to red in the fall: Rhus aromatica, and even local Euphorbias. Not to mention Rocky Mountain Maples, but they are up in the mountains nearby, and as such are not technically priveleged to bear the moniker of "4 Corners."
Springtime we are graced with the early reds of our only local oak, Gambel's Oak, but you have to get up close to see it, and of course Paintbrushes (Castilleja sp.) And Penstemons and other wildflowers. House finches, Northern Flickers, Red- winged Blackbirds and Rufus Hummingbirds are some of our most common birds-with-red.
I think all- in- all, we could use a little more red here! I'm getting out my paints and brushes!
And I amazingly found my Odonata species list, on which i wrote locations in Saskatchewan from DSA in 2013, so I'm all set to be more accurate with my data on I- Nat. Thx again for replying a few weeks ago!
I'm preparing a presentation for my community on "Everything that moves" at our local 180 acre natural area (everything except birds, which have already been well documented) to replace the notion the this place is "just sagebrush."
It will be heavy on the Odonates :), (thanks to a couple ponds and streams/ wetlands) but full of Lepidotera and anything else I've encountered that, of course, moves. I'm creating local interest in pushing our Parks&Rec Dept to finally do a critical management plan.
Thanks again for being a part of my Odonate learning process in 2013!
And loved your story on Rice's whale and the Gulf. Hadn't heard about that situation! So messed up! However the recent attempt to gut the ESA was shot down, so I am grateful for that.
I don't read everything you write, Bryan, (would love to) but trying to catch an article here and there. Thanks again!
Honored to find odes with you back in 2013 -- and grateful that you're here reading from time to time. (Hey, I get it -- we've all got too much to read!)
Stan and I saw an enormous amount of Red Trillium growing by the banks of a river here in southern Maine this week. They took my breath away. It made walking the dog in the rain all worth it.
For a dog who hates rain when she's in the yard, she sure loves the water when she's by a river - couldn’t wait to get in it! Alas, Koa prefers crabgrass over anything else that grows.
Yes, the red maples have turned my chin upward this spring....and I needed that. Your writing is thoughtful and the photos are gorgeous. Thank you for sharing your red spring theory.
Imagine my red-faced embarrassment when I realized that I -- an aging botanist -- had become one of the colorless horde that identified Spring with green rather than red. Thank you once again for opening my eyes and enriching my days.
This is so beautifully observed. Once you begin noticing it, spring suddenly feels less like an arrival of green and more like a slow ignition of reds — maple leaves like stained glass, the ruby haze on shrubs at woodland edges, even the flushed stems and buds pushing against cold earth.
What resonates most is the reminder that red in nature carries contradiction so effortlessly — warning and desire, fragility and boldness, emergence and risk. Spring is not yet abundance; it is exposure. Tender things announcing themselves before conditions are fully safe.
Suddenly every “green” landscape feels far more layered and alive.
The surprising flower of beaked hazelnut is the first sign of spring for me, next the blush of red maple flowers that wash over the hillsides. Finally the richness of unfurling leaves. I am glad to be alive (in spite of those other things). Thank you Bryan.
I ❤️ Beaked Hazelnut. It's a special plant for me every spring!
Sorry, Bryan, I can’t help myself. What is the color pundits use to describe all those Republican-dominated states that comprise the backbone of Trump’s MAGA movement? You know, the kind of legislators working to undermine environmental laws. Oh, yeah, I remember: Those are called RED states.
Of course, I don’t want to overlook that Democrat legislators in the blue state of Vermont, legislators who identify themselves as being “green,” are working pretty assiduously to shrink Vermont’s environmental laws. They’ve got me seeing red, too.
No need to apologize, Bruce. I'm glad you chimed in -- and I would expect nothing less from you by way of critique of the red AND the blue! 😀
Fun and informative as usual.
Thanks, David. Our "street" red showed up in late March this year (as is the case most years) -- the flowers of Silver Maples.
Wintergreen berries spotted today while clearing out fallen twings and branches.
Good one! I'm seeing them as well!
Or, as the local bard wrote, “Nature’s first green is gold…”
Oh, I don't know. It'll look it up! Thanks, Brad!
Bryan, what an absolutely wonderful ode to Spring, dressed in reds. There is nothing more stunning than rounding a corner of a trail—coming face to face with the first red trillium, below the sunshine yellow of a Forsythia in full bloom. The eye traveling higher to meet the lime green leaves of a Silver birch just beginning to unfurl. And towering above them all, the red blooms of the Silver Maple. Set against cerulean blue sky—the delightful rapture of Spring.“…those reds aren’t colors — they’re feelings.” Gosh we are lucky to live in VT.
For the relative sanity here, for our spirit, for our independence, and for the red and green and yellow and other delights you describe, I heartily agree, Lor! We're so damned lucky!
Bryan, I had the privilege of visiting the Long Point Bird Observatory yesterday for a story I’m writing. Since it’s still too early for warblers, the biggest excitement at the bird feeder was a red-headed woodpecker. Even when it playing coy in the bushes behind, its head gave away its location. Not a spring bird per se, but still the red of spring.
A red-headed woodpecker that far north -- sounds EXACTLY like Long Point. I've never been there. Always wanted to go. The flights can be profound, as I'm sure you know. Send me a link to your piece when it's done, Brian!
I was seeing the red in my landscape last Fall also. Thinking about how it is such an overlooked color here in the 4 Corners of the Southwest. Here we have red dirt (really pink), in some places, left over from the weathering Navajo Sandstone, formed during Late Triassic to Early Jurassic times. But we do have a few plants that age to red in the fall: Rhus aromatica, and even local Euphorbias. Not to mention Rocky Mountain Maples, but they are up in the mountains nearby, and as such are not technically priveleged to bear the moniker of "4 Corners."
Springtime we are graced with the early reds of our only local oak, Gambel's Oak, but you have to get up close to see it, and of course Paintbrushes (Castilleja sp.) And Penstemons and other wildflowers. House finches, Northern Flickers, Red- winged Blackbirds and Rufus Hummingbirds are some of our most common birds-with-red.
I think all- in- all, we could use a little more red here! I'm getting out my paints and brushes!
I think I prefer your red flickers to our yellow flickers. And I hope you'll be seeing some red dragonflies! 😉
!!!
And I amazingly found my Odonata species list, on which i wrote locations in Saskatchewan from DSA in 2013, so I'm all set to be more accurate with my data on I- Nat. Thx again for replying a few weeks ago!
I'm preparing a presentation for my community on "Everything that moves" at our local 180 acre natural area (everything except birds, which have already been well documented) to replace the notion the this place is "just sagebrush."
It will be heavy on the Odonates :), (thanks to a couple ponds and streams/ wetlands) but full of Lepidotera and anything else I've encountered that, of course, moves. I'm creating local interest in pushing our Parks&Rec Dept to finally do a critical management plan.
Thanks again for being a part of my Odonate learning process in 2013!
And loved your story on Rice's whale and the Gulf. Hadn't heard about that situation! So messed up! However the recent attempt to gut the ESA was shot down, so I am grateful for that.
I don't read everything you write, Bryan, (would love to) but trying to catch an article here and there. Thanks again!
April
Honored to find odes with you back in 2013 -- and grateful that you're here reading from time to time. (Hey, I get it -- we've all got too much to read!)
Stan and I saw an enormous amount of Red Trillium growing by the banks of a river here in southern Maine this week. They took my breath away. It made walking the dog in the rain all worth it.
Ah, lovely! But what did the pup think of it all????
For a dog who hates rain when she's in the yard, she sure loves the water when she's by a river - couldn’t wait to get in it! Alas, Koa prefers crabgrass over anything else that grows.
Odie is the same way. He won't walk anywhere near a puddle or wet grass, but LOVES going in the river.
Oh great! It’s the spring poem I return to every year when the red maples come alive. And so short it’s easy to memorize. Let me know what you think!
Love your writing, Brian.
Thanks, Brad. I do like that Frost poem. Glad you suggested it!
Yes, the red maples have turned my chin upward this spring....and I needed that. Your writing is thoughtful and the photos are gorgeous. Thank you for sharing your red spring theory.
Imagine my red-faced embarrassment when I realized that I -- an aging botanist -- had become one of the colorless horde that identified Spring with green rather than red. Thank you once again for opening my eyes and enriching my days.
Aging or not, green or red, you'll never be among the "colorless horde," Bruce 😀 -- not in my book!
This is so beautifully observed. Once you begin noticing it, spring suddenly feels less like an arrival of green and more like a slow ignition of reds — maple leaves like stained glass, the ruby haze on shrubs at woodland edges, even the flushed stems and buds pushing against cold earth.
What resonates most is the reminder that red in nature carries contradiction so effortlessly — warning and desire, fragility and boldness, emergence and risk. Spring is not yet abundance; it is exposure. Tender things announcing themselves before conditions are fully safe.
Suddenly every “green” landscape feels far more layered and alive.