When I was 14-15 years old, I wrote a series of 23 essays as a weekly assignment for my high school English class. I called the series "A Naturalist's Notebook." Naturalist's Notebook Table of Contents
When winter ends, and the new season is in progress, each day is filled with new discoveries. I remember the last spring, when I couldn't seem to keep up with all he events. Finally, I gave up trying,and sat back, watching the miracle of spring.
Then it ended, never to return. No two springs are exactly alike: the great horned owl will nest in the same tree, the coltsfoot will always arise on March 9 or thereabouts, but who is to say that the owlets will be cranky or gentle, the flowers nodding or lifting their proud yellow heads to the sun?
Spring is the season for replenishing, another time of feast, for the old. For the newly born, it is a myriad of nooks and crannies, fairly shouting invitations to be explored. It is the first view of the immense world, as seen through eyes that, only a few minutes before, had seen a dark den as their only home. It is first falls into icy water, bee stings, and porcupine quills. It is the feeling of a gentle tongue, cleansing the body of a young fox. It is the feeling of sharp rocks and of threatening wings overhead. It is the cool breeze that penetrates a warm nest, as the mother hawk nestles down to protect her young. It is Spring.