Profile picture.png

True Nature Filter

#spring

Spring

Spring is here! Some of the first flowers you’ll see emerging in temperate regions are from bulbs, such as daffodils and hyacinths. These bulbs remain underground and dormant during the cold, dark part of the year. It’s only when the ground (mostly) stops freezing and the sun starts shining that they sprout and send green, photosynthesizing stems upward and into the light to gather energy. See the pointy ends on these emerging daffodils? That’s how they pushed their way through the soil – like little spears!

True Nature Filter is celebrating the beginning of spring with a series of bright, colorful nature photos that just feel like sunny days. Stay tuned for a photo each day for this whole first week of April! (No fooling!)

Daffodils – in the genus Narcissus – have a rich romantic history, appearing in Greek mythology and poetry. As we say goodbye to March, here’s a poem by Oscar Wilde to welcome in sunny spring:

Magdalen Walks  

The little white clouds are racing over the sky,

And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March

The daffodil breaks underfoot, and the tasselled larch

Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.

A delicate odor is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,

The odor of leaves, and of grass, and of newly upturned earth,

The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,

Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees,

And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,

And the rosebud breaks into pink on the climbing brier,

And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire

Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.

And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love

Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green

And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen

Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.

See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,

Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,

And flashing a-down the river, a flame of blue!

The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.

 

-- Oscar Wilde

Lucia Hadella