oh so poetic green

Finally. Spring comes late to the Catskills, but it is so welcome. Our property is mostly forest and rock and water, so aside from some sweet blue forget-me-nots, most of what is appearing is green. Bringing to mind Dylan Thomas. "The force that through the green fuse drives the flower, drives my green age ..." (the whole poem here)

 ferns, fiddlehead and otherwise

much moss (I should really make some terrariums.)

I love the greenness growing out of the bluestone behind the waterfall.

I wish I were the kind of person who could identify all the kinds of ferns and mosses and other greens. I adore them, I swoon over them, I want to get out my paints and mix a hundred shades of green. I want to write poetry. Every year I think I'll learn the names. I have all kinds of guidebooks. But I never do. I guess that's okay. Would I see them differently if I did?