Southern Maine is damp today. It isn't raining, just damp. I know that because the patio is dark in some places, and almost white in others. It's cool enough for the dampness to collect in low spots. I could have discerned the dampness without even looking out the window. The paper in the printer is soft and slow going through the rollers. My hair is limp and my toes ache. Yup, true indications of dampness.
The lilacs are out. Beautiful purple ( mine are quite dark) plumes of tiny honey filled blossoms. One of God's truly artistic creations. All traces of the forsythia are gone, even the fallen blossoms. Of course, the "ground crew" came around a few days ago with their indiscriminate machines taking everything up that isn't pegged down. I don't miss the dandelions, but the mat of yellow was sort of pretty beneath the forsytha.
The tulips and hyacynths are gone. We now wait for the second wave of whatever we planted last year, or maybe we've put in some new annuals just for the color. My butterfly bushes, the beautiful purple on and the not so beautiful white one (barely shows against my white siding) are up several inches and showing promise. The foxglove is up eight inches so we can expect to see blossoming early on those. The roses are all leaf at this point.
I drove the 35 or so miles to Raymond Hill yesterday (Mother's Day) and was privileged to see the sky dotted with hawks all along the way. Beautiful free birds. They don't seem to need an "updraft" like seaguls. A few flaps of their wings allows them to soar up and down in enviously graceful swoops. ALthough the trip takes me through a section of the Gray Game Preserve, I have never seen a deer on that trip. Maybe next time. YOu have to love Maine in May.