Our weather was doing “breezy” earlier this morning. Now the wind has stepped up some and to me it seems more like “gale.” What do you think? Would you still call winds 40 kmph with gusts up to 60 kmph — 26, gusts to 39mph — breezy? Or downright windy?
With dark gray clouds moving in, it feels like we went from June to the end of September in a day. However, looking out my window I see the lilacs are in bloom and robins are foraging on the lawn. When I was out I heard wrens singing from branches beside their little birdhouses. And I have a number of itchy insect bites after my planting session yesterday. So there’s no doubt about the season.
Years ago the poet Helen Hunt Jackson wrote: O suns and skies and clouds of June, and flowers of June together Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather.
To each his own, they say. Bug bites notwithstanding, I’ll take June.
If you’ve taken the time to check out this word over at Merriam-Webster, you’ll find that it has an interesting etymology. Gossamer comes from “goose summer,” a time that would roughly correspond to our Indian Summer. And not because they were flying south, but because they’re at their plumpest for the roasting pan.
Gossomer was also the Middle English word used to describe filmy cobwebs floating through the air in calm clear weather, apparently because somebody thought the webs looked like the down of a goose. If you see them in the early morning on the grass, wet with dew, you could almost think of down.
Today we use it as a rather poetic synonym for thin, light, flimsy, filmy. As in: The weary travelers sighed for some break in the heat, but the gossamer wisps above offered no relief.
I got up at 5 am this morning and saw the dawn’s early light coming through the bare branches of the trees to the east of us. The early morning light is one visual sign that spring is returning to the prairie. An auditory sign–which I don’t get much of without my hearing aids–is the twittering birds and the gabbling of the geese as they wake up and start discussing travel plans.
Another sign I get is the cats wanting to go outside the minute I set my feet on the floor. After being cooped up in the house all winter, they love to be outdoors when the weather’s clement. The snow in our yard is finally gone, so they can wander about looking for the visual clues that fresh mice are about.
By now the sun is well up and I’ve had my morning coffee. It’s time to prepare for what other activities today will have in store.
Coincidentally, blogger Bill at The Write Idea has given a bit of advice this morning in his haiku about “releasing the dragon.” READ HERE. I decided to take it, and find a dragon I could release.
I have quite a number penned up (pardon the pun) in notebooks, hoping to someday be set free. Yes, it’s time to open a few gates! I grabbed an old journal full of scribbles, turned to the back page, and found a raw poem I jotted down a few years back. I touched it up with a spritz of polish on the scales, did some filing on a few toenails, dabbed a dash more colour on some spots — and now I have my dragon ready to present to you, dear readers.
RECIPE FOR SPRING DELIGHT
Take the wonder of a blue sky, add the blessing of warm sunshine, bar the blasts of bitter wind, but allow a few warm zephyrs to tease the icicles to tears till they splash the winter-killed grass with a rousing message.
Add a number of misting poplars, a sprinkling of meadowlark trills and a path bordered by catkins. Whisk yourself into this mix some inviting March morning; and marinate in the delights of spring.