Yesterday I saw this bald eagle in the newly tilled field near our house. We rent the field to a dairy farmer who grows wheat there for his cows. I’ve never seen an eagle just standing on the ground before. He seemed confused. As are we all. It’s this weather.
Just like that, almost without warning, freezing temperatures have returned. We had a full month of unseasonably warm weather, following a whole winter of unseasonably warm weather, but people still shook their heads when I said I was planting and said it was too early.
I thought the surest sign that spring was here to stay was the nigthly sound of the frogs in full voice down in the wetlands. Surely the daily cries of the sand hill cranes, the reappearance of a line of turtles on the log in the pond and most of all the mating frogs meant we were moving forward.
Then everything stalled. For three nights now, the temperatures have dropped into the 20s. Many trees have their crowns of light green leaves, but many more are stalled at bud stage. I went out and covered the two beds I thought might be vulnerable (I can’t bear to lose my garlic, whose tips were frosting, at this stage) and postponed plans for putting out seedlings and more potatoes this weekend. One more week won’t hurt.
All that actually worries me is the way half the asparagus spears that were coming up have frozen and flopped over. That can’t be good. I’ve looked all over YouTube and the search engine sites to see if it could cause permanent damage, but no luck. Guess I’ll find out in time!
Now what I have going for me is the date on the calendar. It is April 11. In two weeks it will be nearly May. May 15 is the average last frost date, and there is no stopping spring once May has arrived.
Hang in there, eagle. The ice is off the ponds and spring has to arrive.