Last weekend, as so much else was happening, was my annual marathon volunteering at a weekend high school drama event. It is tedious, exhausting and I get to a point where I just shrug and my mantra becomes "the drama belongs on on the stage". I avoid the "drama mavens" (rarely the actors) that seem to take themselves way too serious for a volunteer high school event, but it is worthwhile and for the kids and while I have no kids involved in it this year, I consider it payback for those who did what I am doing, when my kids were first involved.

I think I could plot my annual colds on my running log based on the block of diminished mileage and entries that are usually about March or April of each year. It is very rare that it is more than once and the usual pattern is 1 1/2 weeks down. If ai push the recovery, then it's a full 2 weeks. Thinking that I will over come this annual dip in physical and mental motivation, I have yet to be triumphant. There have multiple unusual event that have been weighing in and these have seemed to zap both the time and motivation.

As I am well again and as things seemed to have resolved themselves in way that they do, this week I am back to easing in running. It is frustrating how quickly fitness deteriates as age advances, oh well. Last week the temperature was up to the 60s, I was home from work early, dinner was running late, a perfect opportunity for a short run. The breeze was mild and light soft, the sound of the peepers on the swampy wetlands was deafening. I don't mind winter, but this weather is so sweet. This morning and out early, the wind was brisk but warm enough for just a long sleeve shirt and it periodically died down to keep it from being tedious. The crocuses are up up, the daffodils are up on the south sides and tulips making there way up through the soil. Coming back a few miles out the wind shifts and the rain comes and for anyone who runs a bit, the feeling of a warm rain too cool you down as you return home can be glorious.

I got a mailing on a 5k coming up in a couple of weeks, my mind says possibly, my body not so sure.....though as I got a chance to run on an indoor track last night I could relatively fire off a couple of miles, even having done 4 miles in the morning and a bit of circuit training, so maybe.


Spring alway arrives a little later in the Berkshires than it does out of the hills. This yer it actually seems like it will be a spring and not just winter into summer.

Spring is definitely here and as I think about it, that is unusual. Usually we bounce around in an out of winter and then right into early summer. Because we live at a higher elevation spring and summer comes later than the lower areas. But this past week has been glorious. Warm and sunny and the sun is up later, I've even been able to take some late afternoon runs, which always brighten the spirit.

Last week or so ago we went through several days of high winds. I've written about the wind here, as it is fairly constant and can be quite active.

I had just cleared the yard of all the branches brought down over the winter and gad enough to keep a fire going for hours and then wind came and blew down much much more and the yard looks like I never done anything.

Another thing that it blew down were pine cones. Hundreds and hundreds of them.



All around the yard and in the woods there is almost a layer. More so than I can recall.



From a distance they look like a mole or something similar until you realize they aren't moving.

Looking high in the trees there are still plenty up there and who knows when they will join the rest.

I recall when we lived in a house with oak trees that would go through cycles and would dump so many acorns that I used a snow shovel and barrel to clean them up.
I am sure there is a similar cycle for pine trees and cones.

A beautiful spring morning

Out this morning on a 5:30 run it was beginning to rain very lightly, enough to be felt but so fine as to evaporate in the breeze as I ran. The sky was blue gray and a beautiful contrast against the soft colors of the distant ridge line. Not one color but multiple shades of green accented by reds and yellow and the browns of rock and brush. Low traveling clouds moving up the valley were at my eye level and seem to hover. The apple blossoms are brilliant along the road, the remnants of old orchards now just decorate yards, standing out from the green of the fields. The smells of lilac and the apple blossoms waft through the air, changing with the wind.

It’s quiet this time of day, the occasional call of birds and drip of the rain on the leaves. As I return home the rain begins to pick up and changes the color of the road and the sound of tires on the occasional car passing by. It waits until I am hope then the skies open wide. A beautiful spring morning in the Berkshires.

The Greening of Spring

Taking my $10 point and click camera out this seemingly dreary morning snapping pictures of spring just to see what comes though the lenses. There is so much brown, so much matted down from the snow and ice but tucked all about are so many sprouts of green life. Through the gnarled thickets are small flowers in bloom. The heavy cool dampness chills the bones but is protective and nourishing this new life.



There is a part of the woods behind our property that was harvested for hardwoods a few years back and what was left was a mess of hacked trees and bushes, tire ruts and a visual wasteland. But the sun that was opened up has helped nature reclaim this space with sprouts of green, saplings that had been shaded and can now grow and this is now an area for more birds and animals.

The rain is soft though the air is cool. The mist hangs over the mountains like a cool nourishing blanket, drifting with the breezes.




Out of the brown of winter comes new growth, new life, new opportunity. The sun will come out another day and the flower will bloom and the trees will be full, but this only because of the cool rain and mists and clouds of days like today.

So much of what goes on with the seasons goes on with us as people, in our lives and with our challenges. Through periods of brown can come new growth. Nourished by what supports us we again bloom another day in another way. Maybe not the same as before but as someone else once said, a rose is a rose and here a bloom is a bloom,

Out on the lake

It is hard to believe that only a few weeks back this was covered with ice and not that long before there were people out here ice fishing.


This past week was unusually warm for spring in the Berkshires. It seemed that we jumped right into summer, which sometimes occurs but only because spring is so late.
On one of these fine days I was able to take the kayak out on Laurel Lake, a body of water defined by its depth not its size. Fed by streams it is surrounded by woods, pastures and some houses.

The sun was bright and the wind light, enough to make a rippling of waves and lapping sounds along the shore and as I paddled. The water temperature was mild, though I am not sure I'd take the plunge with a dip; for then then wind would definitely be noticed.




Paddling across one side to the farthest shore and able to get some good sprints in, the workers were repairing picnic tables and raking sand at the Lee beach. The Lenox beach at the opposite side was quiet and vacant. Where the water was calm, swimming trout could be seen enjoying the fact that those fishing were on the other side of the lake, the water weeds were starting to green but still mostly held themselves to the lower depths .

Last fall when I was last out on the lake, the leaves were vibrant orange and red and the second homeowners had closed up and left for the winter, now there were buds on the trees and it was still still early for the snowbirds to return. At the boat ramp people of all types were casting there lines hoping for a big one as the environmental police were cheerfully bantering and doing a spot check for licenses. As I paddled away I left their talking belind and it was lost in the voice of the wind; blowing across the water, through the trees and forest across the thick grasses.

On a part of the shore where there were houses, workers were hammering and sawing, jolting noises from the mostly mellow sounds of nature. I heard the sound of a solitary loon that I couldn't spot but there was no mistaking the squawking pair of ducks that didn't like my approach and that finally took flight.



The clouds above were wispy and fine and the outline of a jet could be seen miles above, so far that there was no sound, just the sight of it glimmering in the sun.

The geese were grazing on the bordering pastures with an occassional honk but mostly not noticing I was there. In the matted down rushes birds flew about, darting from shoreline perch to the piles of grass and then back again as quickly.




Spring was in the Berkshires and it brought along summer for an early visit. It is a time before tourists, a time for nature to wake up.

What a pleasure to be part of it!!

Down by the River

Walking down by the river the sun is bright but the air is a cool and the wind goes right through the fleece that I thought would do it. But it is so beautiful. The river runs quickly, swollen with the melting run-off from the north amd recent rain.

At the boat launch where in a few months I will slip in my kayak it looks so differently. The tall grasses that, in the summer, frame the river and the launch area now are matted down from the snow and earlier flooding and it gives a wide open view that is lost in the summer. In the sheltered spots back from the water, the tall dry grass waves like flags in the breeze.



A fallen tree, a remnants of a beaver meal from last season left and perhaps forgotten, buds appearing on a few bushes and trees in the sunnier areas; bits of trash and balls washed down stream and previously hidden under snow and green brush quickly fills my plastic bag.

The air is clear and there are the sounds of the river swirling around pieces of wood lodged in the river bank, the wind in the trees and the trickle of dozens of streamlets draining the land.



Around the area the sound birds are returning, mother bears have been spotted with their cubs walking the neighborhood in search of food, daffodil green is appearing along the southern sides of stone walls and in the yard and the days are longer.

Spring is here!!!

Down by the River

Walking down by the river the sun is bright but the air is a cold 29 and the wind goes right through the fleece and sweater that I thought would do it today. But is is beautiful. The river runs quickly, swollen with the run-off from the north. At the boat launch where in a few months I will slip in my kayak, the tall grass at the river's edge is matted down from the snow and earlier seasonal floods giving this wide open view that is lost in the summer;
remnants of a beaver meal chopped down, signs of buds on a few bushes and trees.








Around the area the sound birds are returning, mother bears have been spotted with their cubs walking the neighborhood in search of food, daffodil green is appearing along the southern sides of stone walls and in the yard.

Spring is here!!!

So where is spring?

The 16th of March- the light is changing, the newspaper stories of potholes abound, the calendars of cultural events that draws the visitors here are out, the ice on the lake shows a little thaw near the boat ramp. But this morning it’s a light snow.

We are starting to enter mud season, which is warmer but is definitely not spring. The rabbits are out and about. Pairs start to appear in just about every yard in the neighborhood and with yards of over an acre surrounded by woods.

The temperature may get warmer and sun brighter but it is not unusual for the daffodils to be blooming in May at the same time the ash is be just sprouting its leaves. Walking around today it is hard to find a sprout. The forsythia shows nothing anew, no bulges are showing in the garden, an opening for the shoots. The kayak really wants to come out, but the frozen ground and snow barricade the door it must come out.

Spring is a very short season blending quickly into summer. In the Berkshires we wait for spring and when it arrives it disappears quickly into summer. The seasons are special, they are worth waiting for…….. but I am impatient for spring.

The sounds of the woods

This past weekend was great for walking in the woods. Alone and not another person in sight, the sun was bright, the air was cold and the wind sharp. Everywhere there were remnants from the intense rain of the past few days and signs the that winter was beginning to release its grip. The snow was patchy, the ice gleaming and slick.

Walking through what many would think to be a quiet place, especially given the distance from the nearest road and absence of people, there is actually a lot to hear.

The crunch of snow under foot, each step sounding a little different depending on the consistency of the snow; the cracking sound of the ice melting from the rain again hardening in the cold wind; the wind rushing across the meadows and tall grasses and whipping through the trees, sounding so much like the wind and waves at the ocean; the creaking, clicking and groaning of the trees and their branches and the occasional thump of a rotting branch hitting the ground; the trickling and gurgling run off and melting layers of snow; the seasonally dormant brooks coming alive to carry water to the river; the occasional flutter of a bird startled from its bushy roost; the call of the birds to one another.

Then the wind calms and for a moment there is a sudden stillness, an emptiness, a change in air pressure ….. and the smaller quieter sounds come through. The drips of the tiny stream running through brambles, berries dropping from bushes having held out for the long winter and survived the feasting birds, the squirrels dashing about.

And then there are the signs of sounds that once were: the woodpecker holes, proof of their distant sound; the tunnels through bushes and matted brush marking the trails of deer, turkeys or bear.

Whoever says the woods are quiet, isn't listening.