It’s just barely spring in the Blue Ridge, but nature can wait no longer, bursting forth in glorious color. Driving the back roads, all along the woods’ edge the pink blossoms of redbud and wild cherry trees are visible. The yellow and gold hues of buttercups, daffodils, and goldenrod dot the fields and meadows. Bees feast on the purple henbit that grows in the poorer soils along field edges and hillsides.
After this morning’s rain, though, the landscape is dominated by green. The grass is growing so fast you can almost hear it grow and the trees are hurrying to send out their new leaves to catch the rain and the sun’s rays. The yellowy-green willow tree next to our neighbor’s pond sits in contrast to the darker green of the surrounding grassy meadow and the pines at the base of the mountain in the background. On this particularly verdant morning, green is the color of spring.
Now every field is clothed with grass, and every tree with leaves; now the woods put forth their blossoms, and the year assumes its gay attire. ~Virgil