There are signs that spring is here, finally, but none more real to me than the little yellow coltsfoot blooms. When I rode in last night right at dusky dark , they were unseen. But today I was out early, and there they were. Perhaps the warm night had teased them into showing their radiant, sunlike blossoms this morning. The ditch banks were filled. If you weren’t paying attention, you might think…dandelions, but look again. There is that definite soft center surrounded by fine fringe, and no leaves. They leap from the earth into full flower, in less than 12 hours time. Every March this little flower says” TaDa!” with it’s bold surprise. The name of course comes from their leaves that appear next…big, broad, and shaped like horses hooves. Then the happy blossom finally turns onto the seed heads, looking more akin to those dandelions.
Coltsfoot is used in traditional medicine for a variety of ailments. Best to make an infusion of the leaves and flowers beneficial for upper respiratory ailments such as coughing, (especially that morning cough), expelling mucous, and as an anti inflammatory. So gather, boil it down, and you have a free gift from nature’s pharmacopeia. It is good for my mind, as well. All I have to do is see it there, reaching toward the sun, and it acts as a natural anti depressant. This morning my good mare Jane passed by, and I spied it there in the mud and tall grasses, I just had to shout, “Hallelujah!” It is a simple weed, yet it says so much about where we are on the wheel of the seasons. Yes, I have a few croci blooming in the yard, but I planted them. Although thrilled to see those little purple friends, the coltsfoot lives a wild life, and that I greatly respect with its uncultivated moxie, to be the first bloomer out there in an uncertain world.
Late last night I heard the spring peepers for the first time this year. Another cause for celebration. Earlier I had ridden through the fields around the ponds a few miles from home looking and listening, but there was silence except for a liquid “plop… plop” here and there around the full circumference. The lesser blue heron scolded us raucously as we disturbed her off the nest, and she flew low across the water. The moon had risen over Butler mountain awhile before dark, and I stopped there to admire its reflection in the still blackness. It was one of those moments lost from the counting of time. I breathed it all in, content in the spring evening. I wondered to myself about the peepers, “When will the chorus begin”? Then Bess, dog of a lifetime, (who lives to go out riding), decided to follow her bliss into the pond shattering the egg shaped image into many moons, made into lace, among the rippling circles. Rather than creating an unwelcome interruption, a joy deepening into peace swept through me. My dear 4 leggeds and all the sensual blessings of earth joined together to cast a spell and expand my heart. I thought of all those I love, my children, husband, sisters, friends. I also considered all those that I don’t know across the planet that are feeling pain, suffering anxiety, loss, and transmitted the here and now of this experience, out in waves…knowing in some way the energy of this space in time would reach them, and perhaps touch their hearts with this palpable, deep peace.
At some point, I turned toward home and walked quietly off. It was getting dark. The moon shining bright as a lantern guided me through familiar fields, to the gates, and out to the hardtop. Another 20 minutes to the driveway. As I unsaddled at the barn, I heard the peepers begin, as if waiting for my return. Off in to the woods, by the creek to the west of the big pasture I could hear them singing, shouting, exulting. I had won the bet with Rick . He predicted the 12th. Not as optimistic, I said the 20th. Here it was Saint Patrick’s day, and the green frogs with their beautiful mix of baritone and tenor were crooning. Spring’s pre game show had really begun. Maybe it was last night’s peepers that sang the coltsfoot into bloom this morning.