I was too late to see Sonya Glassberg's daffodils, but one of her hyacynth was fresh. I don't recall seeing a "wild" hyacynth before. Irises, and lots of daffodils, to be sure. But never a hyacynth.

All the little spring woodland flowers were blooming. I wouldn't say that the slopes were "carpeted," but I've never seen so many, and so many different types. Small and white, or sometimes a very pale pink. I'll have to break out my copy of Missouri Wildflowers at some point, and do another post on flower identification.

I'm not sure whether this is a native, wild pear, or a Bradford pear spread, like honeysuckle, by a bird. The later, I guess.

This time of year, almost the only bright green is the moss:

It was a day for looking at small things. This, a tuft of grass growing out of the trunk of a living tree, is right off the trail, near where it ducks in and out of the power lines:

It's fairly common to see little maples which hold on to their leaves through the winter. Sometimes, especially when it's cloudly, their leaves look almost like slips of paper tied to their branches. This weekend, they set up a nice (albeit pagan) Holy Saturday vibe, caught in one day between winter and summer, poised on the cusp of spring.

I can't believe it's been over two years since I posted to this blog. I have been hiking and camping steadily all the while. But I went through a season when I just wanted to look and see, instead of looking for pictures of the blog . . . a nicely uncomplicated season.