Gradual Spring

Early spring walks are treasure hunts for me.  I am always scanning, inspecting, bending down to look more closely.  I "collect" my findings in my mind, celebrating each one, or mourning, if mourning is called for.
Every treasure finds some way to stand out in the leafless woods of oak and pine.  Last week it was a bright, ribbon snake, too fast for me to catch.  Yesterday our first encounter was a sad one.  A lone deer, dead beside the swamp, too close to my Watching Log for comfort.  I made the assumption that the poor thing died tragically of the chronic wasting disease, thirsty and unable to cool its fever.  I only glanced, and quickly turned away with the dogs in tow.
Further, also beside the swamp, a beautifully painted turtle, edged with red, but upside down, unable to flip back, had died that way.  It was a perfect shell to show my students, but not with the turtle remains still inside.  I will wait.
As we followed the trail, the small shrubs began to show tiny leaf openings.  Looking up, dizzy with the height of the trees, we could see the beginnings of tree top buds.  Most of the woods is still sleeping, but along the ridge, the round-lobed hepatica pushed aside the dead, brown, oak leaves, and turned its pretty little purple faces to the sky.  Here, I bent close to smile into the only flowers blooming in that woods.  The first and the bravest.  They smiled back.
T.