It was three years ago in April that I started writing the weekly blog Embers From the Fire. Writing the blog initially was a reaction to the COVID pandemic. As the country engaged in lockdowns in an attempt to control
Dandelion: definition; noun Vegetation; a perpetual perennial that flourishes in any soil despite not being planted knowingly; resists eradication due to prolific nature and determined disposition. Resilient to grass mowing and proven to repopulate one’s yard the day after
Many may think of spring as the time for flowers and fresh, green leaves on trees. But if you hurry through anything meaningful in life, you miss much of the wonder along the way. And, is there anything fuller of wonder, fuller
Spring does not seem to come silently. From the first drip of snowmelt, spring is a season that plays on the ear. Even in the lowly ditch of the farm field the water drops quickly gather and begin to
About 25 years ago we planted daffodil bulbs on the south side of our house where they would bloom the earliest. We enjoyed the bright yellow blooms in April for years. But 10 years ago, we decided to have a
This week Spring took up its baton, tapped the musical score for attention and brought the full orchestra to life in a rousing and rising crescendo. The mornings and evenings were already building the past two weeks. The string
Last evening Michelle and I went in search of swans. These last weeks of March and first weeks of April are typically the time when the trumpeter swans use the farm fields in northeastern Wisconsin, flooded by melting snow, as
I remember the year distinctly – 1998. I remember the day distinctly – it was the morning of November 5th. What I remember most was the “not thrilled” look on my wife’s face. The look started at the same time
In the Balance March had pushed itself into late February. The little snow that had fallen was dry and powdery so what was still on the ground had seemed to evaporate more than melt during a week of springish days
The truest measuring rod of the annual tug of war between Winter and Spring is the icicle. I remember as a child with very limited artistic ability, drawing pictures of our house huddled and shivering in the deep freeze of
