the two springs

March 05, 2018  •  5 Comments

Because I tend to think that spring arrives on the vernal or spring equinox,  I did not give much thought to the 1st of March this week, except for changing the calendar. But the people at NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, use temperature data to define seasons, in this case, meteorological spring. Which began on Thursday.  

Typical of New Mexico at this time of year, the wind blew like mad yesterday, stirring up dust, pollen, and numerous particulates which turned the normally crystalline blue sky into an antique tinted photograph.  From their behavior, the birds have certainly felt spring coming for a few weeks.  And this morning, we thought we heard our first Say's Phoebe of the season, which, from our records, is at least two weeks early.  We hope that he or she has enough flying insects to eat.  

Even in the driest of seasons, green things start poking out of the ground in March.  Soon, some of the ground-hugging flowers will start to bloom, including the "Easter daisies" shown here.

Easter daisies 2Easter daisies 2

More low-growing, daisy-type flowers (the composite family) pop up later in the season.

flowers - daisiesflowers - daisies

Just as there is a meteorological spring and an astronomical spring for different scientific and planning purposes, there are two springs where we live, depending on whether plants and trees are on the north side or the south side of our house.  In normal years, the north side of the house can have snow covering the ground until April, and sometimes longer, whereas we see the first signs of spring on the south side of the house about three weeks to a month earlier.  In essence, our high pitched roof gives us the two springs here as well.  The first daffodils on the north side signify that the warm season is on its way.  The two images shown here are from my new "Fresh and Painterly" art card collection.

daffodil with orange cupdaffodil with orange cup

Daffodils (yellow and aspen)Daffodils (yellow and aspen)

All of these photographs were made in the morning hours, before 9:30 a.m., which yielded brighter, more stark light for the daisies, but isolated light for the daffodils.

Whatever weather presents itself where you are on this wonderful planet of ours, I hope you find pleasure in it, and plentiful photographic opportunities.

until next Monday,


a passion for the [email protected]



The two springs arrives on the vernal or spring equinox and temperature data to define seasons for fun things here I asked them to do and more such a numerous particulates which turned the normally meteorological spring.
Steve Immel(non-registered)
I learn something from you very week, Daryl. Why didn't I know about meteorological spring? Must have slept through that class. All are "Fresh and Painterly" to be sure. You are so right about the wind yesterday. I was almost knocked off my feet while on my daily run.
We're hearing Cranes up here. Your Daisy photos are quite lovely too. The shadows make them so dramatic. I'm running late, this year, planting indoors. We may have a much longer growing season this year. I have a well, so it is worrisome to have such a dry winter. The lilacs are budding, but I've not checked the cherry tree yet. I overwintered a Wisteria in the garage. Don't know, yet, if it will make it. I bought 30 fresh tomato seeds so that I can share again this year with my next door neighbor. This will be the second year for that particular raised bed, a Hugelkultur bed. The way it's supposed to work is that all the snow (cough, cough) from winter soaks into the wood beneath the soil and provides water to the plants the next year.
Your Daffodils are so lovely, and very painterly. The shadows on the petals and the beautiful colors sing of spring. It looks like you also have a little Aspen baby growing nearby to shelter them. Your photos reminded me of poet William Wordsworth's view of Daffodils.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Very interesting information this cold windy morning.
I'm not ready for anyone's spring. Your fresh, bright and energetic photos belie the horror of our weather pattern skipping winter this year. Next week can you give your fans some images of what a NM winter used to be like?
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