For several years I sent May a tiny bouquet of fragrant Trailing Arbutus. A few of them are blooming now in a struggling patch in our Wild Garden. I think of May as I kneel to catch that spring aroma. How appropriate that May shared the name of this superb month in New England.  I still miss her.


SPRING–what a magical time it is here in Connecticut. Oh yes, I do know that it is magical any place in the world that knows the glory of changing seasons. May Sarton captured it so beautifully in her poetry, especially my favorites, “Metamorphosis” and “Mozart Again” (included in From May Sarton’s Well).

It was an specially good day for me when I was able to start it by photographing this red maple with its tender new leaves still dripping in the morning mist  (p. 53). Knowing that as soon as the sun broke through, a breeze would start, the leaves would bounce and I would be unable to get a sharp image. The next day the leaves would be bigger, thicker, stronger. That delicate phase of spring’s unfolding would be gone. It is truly satisfying when I am able to capture a fleeting moment with my camera.