Category Archives: Spring

Spring watch

Spring must be over by now. It’s halfway through June, it’s time for summer. But the cool weather we’ve had for the past few has caused spring to linger.

The last of the spring concerts in the Classical Music Series was last night, and it was cool enough inside the church that the marimba player asked me to turn on the heat because his hands and his instrument were a little too cold.

When we went to bed last night, we left the skylight wide open. About halfway through the night I realized I was feeling cold and came awake enough to pull the comforter over us.

The thickets of rosa rugosa on Pope’s Island love the cool, damp weather. You can smell their scent from a hundred feet away on a cool evening. As fast as the old blossoms fade away, new blooms take their place.

The high temperature yesterday was only 63 degrees; today was only a little warmer, up to 71 degrees; and a brisk breeze out of the northeast on both days made it seem even cooler. I don’t care what the calendar says, it’s still spring in New Bedford.

Spring watch

Carol and I walked out to the end of State Pier in New Bedford Harbor yesterday, and stood there watching some fishing boats leaving port. We were chatting about something when we were surprised by a splash in the water behind us.

“What was that?”

A hundred feet out in the harbor, we could see ripples and small splashes, and then something big rolled up out of the water and splashed.

“Looks like some big predator fish chasing a school of small bait fish,” I said. I thought maybe they were bluefish, but I’m not a saltwater angler, so I wouldn’t know for sure. Bluefish (Pomatomus saltatrix) winter in Florida, migrate north, and hit the Massachusetts coast sometime in June, but I think of them as arriving later than June 8.

Today when I went out for a walk, I ran into Michael, the librarian at the Whaling Museum Research Library. He was headed across the bridge to Fairhaven, as I was, so we walked along together. On the bridge between Pope’s Island and Fish Island, he stopped and pointed out at the harbor at some ripples and small splashes, and every once in a while something big rolling up out of the water.

“Bluefish,” he said. “They’re up in the harbor already.”

He’s a saltwater fisherman, so I’ll take his word that these were blues. Their arrival means that springtime is almost over.

Parade

Around noontime, Carol went up to watch the Memorial Day parade here in New Bedford.

“How was it?” I asked when she got back.

“It was fine,” she said. “Some people walked down all the way from Buttonwood Park alongside the parade. You should have gone.”

“I suppose I should have,” I said.

She started eating watermelon. “I figured that as long as some kid from New Bedford died in Iraq, I should at least go to the Memorial Day parade,” she added. “Actually, I didn’t realize it, but four kids from New Bedford have died in the war.”

I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t gone. “Four from New Bedford?” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “One of their fathers was there. He stood up next to the mayor. He didn’t speak, but it looked like he was maybe crying a little.”

I guess I really should have gone to the Memorial Day parade. Sadly, because this war shows no signs of ending, when I do go to the parade next year there will probably be some more New Bedford kids who have died in Iraq.

Not watching spring…

Every May for the past five years, it has happened.

The spring migration of birds is one of the most spectacular events in the natural world, and the peak of the spring migration occurs in May. If you’re good (and a little bit lucky), you can see a hundred different bird species in one day, including birds that have flown thousands of miles to get this far, with hundreds of miles yet to go before they reach their summer breeding grounds. It is one of the wonders of the natural world.

Every May for the past five years, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to spend a day in the field looking for birds. And it’s happening again this year.

Sigh.

Spring watch

Suddenly, two days ago, I started seeing the cormorants again. They disappeared from New Bedford harbor late last fall, were gone all winter, and then on Sunday I saw this big black bird pop up from swimming underwater: a cormorant, who was just as surprised to see me as I was to see it, and who immediately began swimming away from me, fast.

The day before that, Saturday, I saw three or four Red-breasted Mergansers. They came to the harbor last fall, and have been here ever since. But since then, I haven’t seen a one. It’s almost as if the cormorants and the mergansers traded places. The wintering waterfowl have gradually been leaving the harbor since March. The last time I saw a Common Loon was early last week, swimming around Fish Island, resplendent in his summer plumage. I have to say, I’m sad that they’re gone for the year.

It’s mating season for Herring Gulls. The gulls who live on the roof of the building next to our apartment have been getting noisy at night, so noisy that they have awakened me a number of times. One night last week, a terrible screeching squabble woke me up, then I heard something hit the roof — thunk! — and slide down, scrabbling and scraping. Mating season must be a rough time when you’re a gull.

May 26, 2007 — I’ve added a video showing a number of Herring Gull nests that I’ve discovered on the rooftops of New Bedford, including the nest on our roof.

Spring watch

Three years ago, we lived a mile away from Verrill Farm in Concord, Massachusetts. We used to walk down and buy our vegetables there. In the winter, they’d bring in vegetables from California or Florida, but at about this time of year they would start having some of their own vegetables for sale.

I drove up to see Carol’s parents this afternoon, and I took the route that went by Verrill’s Farm. Sure enough, they had their own spinach on sale, the first vegetables out of their greenhouse: nice, crisp, curly, succulent, bright green leaves of spinach. I bought a big bag of their spinach. By this time in the spring, I’m desperate for fresh local vegetables. The stuff they truck in from California and Florida always tastes a little limp and flat.

It’s a quarter to ten, and I just got back home. I was tempted to cook up some spinach before I went to sleep, but it’s really too late. Now I can hardly wait until tomorrow: spinach salad for lunch, steamed spinach for dinner….

Daffodils

Of course I ordered flowers for Easter. Every year, people in our church put up six or seven dollars for a pot of daffodils, or an Easter lily, or a pot of tulips, and the order of service on Easter Sunday prints the dedications for the flowers: In memory of the wonder dog; In honor of family; For my sister who’s fighting cancer. I ordered three pots of daffodils in memory of Mom. Then on Palm Sunday, you get to see all the flowers: banks of daffodils and lilies and tulips at the front of the church. No hyacinths, though, because our minister is allergic to them and wouldn’t be able to preach.

After the Easter service, everyone takes their flowers home. My three pots of daffodils wound up on the kitchen counter behind the stove. Most of the flowers started to fade over the next few days, gradually fading to dull yellow. But I kept watering the plants, and three last buds burst into bloom right after Easter.

Now, a week and a half later, the daffodils are looking pretty sad. The tall green leaves have gone brown at the tips, the stalks are sagging and falling over, and most of the blossoms have shrunk and withered. I thought about trimming back the plants, letting the bulbs dry out and rest so I could plant them next fall.

But those three last blossoms are now if full bloom: three vividly yellow flowers in amongst a score of dull, withered flowers. I decided to let the daffodils alone, and to admire the last flowers until they, too, withered away to nothing.

Spring?

I was going to be a good doobie, and write some more about the concept of “post-Christendom.” But it’s a rainy, nasty, raw, miserable night out, and I just don’t have the energy to do much of anything except sit and stare at the computer screen and not write.

Our regular letter carrier came into the church office this morning and said, “Looks like we’re getting our winter this spring.” So far, April has been colder, wetter, and nastier than January was around these parts. And snow has been forecast for tomorrow morning.

Someone remind me why we thought it would be a good idea to move back to New England.

Spring watch

Monday:– The weather forecast had predicted a few snow flurries on Monday evening. Sure enough, as I went in to the district Board meeting over in Middleboro at 6:45, a few fat flakes floated down from the sky. But by the time I walked out of the Board meeting two hours later everything was covered with four inches of snow — that’s a little more than a flurry.

Tuesday and Wednesday:– It felt warm when the sun was out. But when the sun wasn’t out, and when the wind was blowing off the 35 degree ocean water, it felt like winter again.

Thursday:– The gulls are starting to get more active. I suppose they are starting to pair off for breeding season. I’ve been hearing them screaming at each other all evening long, and every once in a while it sounds like one gull throws another one down onto our roof from the building next door.