Our trusty nature detectives led the way, Daniel and I snapped pictures, and Jonathan strolled. What a team!
Behold, the first shoots of grasses and cattails that will grow lavishly and luxuriantly by mid-summer.
A sunny patch of cool moss that remind me of the terrariums my grandmother used to make.
The Lady's Mantle wakes up from her winter sleep.
Evidence of the grass that Steven will mow ad nauseum this summer.
Pussy willows always delight young and old. What a strange novelty to have fur on trees!
Bethany, our future florist, thinks of the many things she can do with this neat clipping!
The Legend of Pussy Willows by Dot McGinnis
A Polish legend tells the tale
Of tiny kittens, oh, so frail. Along the river's edge they chased.
With butterflies, they played and raced.
They came too close to the river's side
And, thus, fell in. Their mother cried.
What could she do but weep and moan?
Her babies' fate were yet unknown.
The willows, by the river, knew
Just what it was that they must do.
They swept their graceful branches down
Into the waters, all around.
To reach the kittens was their goal;
A rescue mission, heart and soul.
The kittens grasped the branches tight.
The willows saved them from their plight.
Each springtime since, the story goes,
Willow branches now wear clothes.
Tiny fur like buds are sprung
Where little kittens once had clung.
And that’s the legend, so they claim,
How Pussy Willows Got Their Name!
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