We tend to do most of our garden cleaning up in the fall with the expectation that come spring there will be little left to do. That we can leave the garden to itself, requiring no help from us to make it presentable as it adjusts to the changing atmosphere from winter to spring. Such, alas, is not the case. Although there is relatively little to do in the garden with the perennials being nudged awake and into sluggish action, there is the detritus of accumulation from the winter months that glare at us, insisting it be raked and swept away.

Of course at this time of year everything looks raw and unfinished. We see all the hard edges and none of the softness of late spring when trees have budded their foliage, and the perennials and shrubs have yet to shout out their vibrant presence, either at home in the garden or out in the forest. The thing of it is, everything can be taken for granted, the eternal seasonal changes and how flora and fauna respond. But doing so is neglectful and we tend to miss what we should really not.

At this time of year with the days still lengthening in ambient light, when we no longer have temperatures overnight dipping below freezing, and precipitation tends to fall as rain, not snow, changes are abrupt as the growing season leaps into action. In the garden tulips are ready to bloom, the scilla and grape hyacinths already have, and now the anemone is also blooming. The heucheras are stretching into visible action and their cousins, plantain lilies (better known as hostas) are nudging the fertile soil aside to make room for their emergence. Even Icelandic poppies have thrust their foliage into visible presence.

And in the ravine, wild strawberries are popping up everywhere, alongside woodland violets. Not yet in bloom, but the evidence that they will before long is there as the foliage creeps into view. Trout lilies have spread, their spear-shaped and patterned foliage pioneering new ground on the forest floor. And foamflower, the wild equivalent to our garden heuchera, are also emerging.

We stride along the forest trails unimpeded now by snow and ice. Rather, we're treading on a cornucopia of pine, hemlock and spruce cones. It was a good year for acorns as well. Those cones that fell in abundance last fall, some that fell during the winter, and more that cascaded down in some of the ferocious winds of early spring. In the fall they were redolent of sap, and they have provided an ongoing feast for the squirrels dependent on them during the months of snow and cold winds.

Some of the shrubbery in the ravine is now beginning to tentatively but inexorably leaf out; dogwood and honeysuckle among them. Maple trees are beginning to shed their bright red florets, though none of the hardwoods have yet shown signs of leaf growth.