Pussy willows

Years ago now, I would buy "statement" pussy willows, gigantic pussy willows, six feet tall, they barely fit in the car, for the parish I served. That florist eventually closed. I have not seen "statement" pussy willows since. 

Pussy willows have arrived

At the local

Flower stand.

So many of my friends

Ok

And not-so-friends

Are in desperate need

Of pussy willows:

THE sign

Spring always comes.

Place them in water.

Watch them sprout

In February.

I know

This is not soon enough

For some,

Even for many.

I know

It is so hard to wait.

Pussy willows

Have arrived

In January.

There is hope

For February.

Up early

Things (and people) show growth as they are made to show growth. Sometimes it's curly growth. Up early today, witnessing the curliness of things.

Up early,

I learn the curly willow

Is up early

As well,

Lit by morning sun

Shadowed curly

On the living room carpet.

Up early

I learn

Pussy willows green

In a different order

Catkins first

Then comes green.

Up early

I write this

In its particular order,

Somewhat curly

In its own right.

Catkins

More pussy willow observations.

The catkins

On the very top

Of the pussy willow branches

Have sprouted

Fur upon fur

Pale yellow green fur

On the soft gray.

It begs for some new spring

Flying thing

To find it

For nourishment

For pollination

Maybe perhaps for both.

I realize

I do not know the life cycle

Of pussy willows,

One of the many many things

I do not know.

Still

It remains an amazing thing

Of Spring.

Unscheduled snow

Blech! 

I'm glad we made it to the store yesterday before this weather change. This same store did not carry pussy willows before the vernal equinox... except for their display pussy willows which were not for sale...only there as indication that spring might be coming. Yesterday we bought pussy willows AND forsythia. Good thing.

With the unscheduled snow

I am grateful for forsythia

And pussy willows

On the front table

Oh

And the six crows huddled in the ash tree

And the scarlet cardinal,

Now an accent

To the snow.

With this unscheduled snow

I am keeping an eye

On spring.

Rain in the night

This week has convinced me, once again, that everyone needs a witness, a listener to the song each of us is singing, whether we sing it well already, or whether it is simply a practice session, for now.

Rain in the night

Wet sidewalks this morning.

The cardinal sings

His spring song.

The robins hop hopeful

For worms.

We added new pussy willows

To the front table.

The weather map shows

Slightly higher temperatures.

There were turnings this week.

We are spending the weekend

In Denver,

Hopeful for spring

As the robins are,

Hopeful  for

More signs of new life.

No forsythia

Pussy willows are hopeful... but still... they're not forsythia.  

So far

It is not a good year

For forsythia.

Last year at this time

Everything was gray and wet

And oh so yellow

Even shining gold.

So far 

This year

No forsythia.

We have refreshed the pussy willows

On the front table,

Made do

With soft gray catkins

Blue sky

Brown lawn.

So far though

No forsythia.

Catkins

Lent means spring and Lent comes late this year.  Real spring seems even later.  The time change comes this weekend.  Saving daylight with snow still on the ground seems somehow, well, wrong. But there it is.  I look for reminders.  The light has indeed begun to change   I found pussy willows at the store a couple weeks ago.  I coax them along, trim their bottoms, change their water, hope for a hint of green.

Today a whiff of warm,

Even with snow still on the ground.

I have rearranged the pussy willow branches

On the front table,

Trimmed the bottoms,

Scrubbed the glass,

Changed the water.

God willing the branches will last

Until the snow melts,

Enough catkins holding tight

To the stems,

Maybe even a leaf or two

To carry us over

To crocus

Beside the front door.