Yesterday the woods felt full of potential. As Cedar and I tramped on the Big Tree Trail for the first time in a week due to my travel, I expected to see more change. Most of the snow has melted or sublimated, neighbor Kelli spoke of seeing three deer yesterday, and I heard my first varied thrush of the year. The woodpecker I heard last week changed from acoustic (hollow tree drumming) to heavy metal (the Iha family’s gutter or downspout). But there were no signs yet of skunk cabbage, which I’m sure is doing its heat-generating thing below the ground.

Late March Devil’s Club time lapse over about a week. Not much action yet.

It felt like we’re on the threshold of spring, and maybe occupying a mini season-within-a-season. Still lots of room in the woods with very little spring foliage unfolding, but everything seemingly close to bursting with the increasing light. I looked up the word “threshold” as I thought of this mini-season, and was amused to find that it is related to “treading” or “tramping” in old English, and even, maybe the “Italian trescare ‘to prance,’ or the “Old French treschier ‘to dance.” While I’m not doing much more than tramping, Cedar might even have a little trescare in her. But we’re dwellers on the threshold of spring, no doubt.

Yesterday was one of those days in which Juneau challenges us to even try not to be amazed at its beauty. I failed in the best of ways, and I’m going to imagine that Cedar, while trying to keep her cool, was a little blown away, too.