Despite frost this morning, spring is advancing noticeably. Roses are unfurling leaves.
Redbud buds are swelling, hints of soon-to-come magenta explosion.
Our oaks are careful about premature growth, but they’re testing the air, buds fattening, exposing downy sienna-colored underscales.
Catalpa, cautious catalpa, would say, “I’m still sleeping. Wake me up in May…”
Up stem and bole, sap is streaming, eddying.
Eddies are everywhere, including in the prop wash from the ferry, when it backs out of the slip in Woods Hole and then goes “all ahead” for the Vineyard.
Over on Nonamessett, a tall stone wall, still in good repair, is casting a dark shadow in the early morning light.
Another sign of spring. The wooden winter covers on the windows of the house are gone.
Light is streaming through ancient window panes.
The double chimney is greeting another season.
The ferry turns east toward West Chop.
To our southwest, down Vineyard Sound, we see azure and cerulean.
It’s a bluetiful day.