Mulberries.  Just one word. And it’s a mouthful.

You either know what I am talking about and are drooling right now, or you have the misconception that this is some trashy, messy berry not worth your while.  You could learn the truth from my son and his preschool buddies at their babysitter where a mulberry tree brings joy to all. The stains on the children’s fingertips offer colorful testimony. 

I have a long history with mulberries, growing up with a sprawling specimen in my yard. There were lots of berries in my youth and I would join my friends in a pack as we would search the neighboring park for all sorts of edible berries. Mulberry season came right on the heels of wild strawberries and preceded the raspberries and blackberries and my tree offered a bountiful harvest for all, including my friends, the deer and a huge assortment of birds.

The mulberries are early this year. I usually start looking in mid-june. We try to arrive at the babysitter’s house a little early each school day so that we can spend some time together enjoying the juicy purple berries. I reach overhead for the berries that Emerson can’t reach and he grabs the berries off the low hanging branches. Overhead, the birds are busy - robins, catbirds, waxwings, woodpeckers and more.

The berries are at their peak now. If you sneeze loud enough, the plumpest ripest ones just fall to the ground. Emerson will pick and eat the mulberries with his preschool buddies before lunch and he will do the same after school. But I have the gift of sharing these mulberries with my son at the start of each day. It is a sweetness that lingers throughout my day.

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Morning time - with my windows open, I usually wake before the kids, to the sound of birdsong. Such a sweet cacophony. I rarely rise right away as Michelle has the job of stirring all the children into action. (Thank you Michelle!) The morning routine for parents has its challenges.

Luckily, one of the kids does not need to rush off yet to catch the bus. He is typically the most difficult to rouse in the morn. After the other kids leave, we will eat outside at our picnic table, listening to birdsong and watching the bird families visit our suet feeder.  It is a great way to start the day.

While this is a beautiful part of our day, I think that our day really begins with Emerson’s visit to the backyard garden. Ever since the garden actually started looking like a garden with paths, turned soil and sprouting seeds, Emerson has wanted to visit each morning before we depart.  It is an affirmation that the magic of gardening has cast its spell.

Emerson’s surveys are different each day. Some mornings he helps harvest the spinach for our egg breakfast. Sometimes he looks to see if the rabbit has visited the garden again. Are there any birds visiting? He checks on the growth of all of our plants and watches for the latest seeds to sprout.  Are there any slugs? He is eyeing the broccoli, patiently, and wondering when. And he is looking for insect friends, discovering ladybugs and caterpillars. With morning dew on our feet and fresh air in our lungs, this is truly the way to start the day.

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While this has been a glorious spring OUT THERE, it has not come without some significant challenges. My family is deeply saddened by the recent passing of grandfather, father, and father-in-law Tony Farrugia. Tony was clearly the biggest fan of this blog as it offered him a glimpse of his grandchildren and the spirit of youth in nature. His warm, positive spirit will be missed.

We returned to New Jersey from Tony’s home in Toronto one week ago with heavy hearts. I was quickly reminded of the solace of nature as the scents of spring wafted through our open windows. I knew we would find a least a little comfort in the sweet, intoxicating bouquet.

It is clearly not a time to be an ecological purist.  My youngest son and I went for a hike following our noses and it led us to the ubiquitous multiflora rose. Now this is a plant that has been the target of many a string of expletives, from probably the moment that I first learned to curse. Even before then I probably invented a curse word as I bounded through the head-high meadows of my childhood only to get caught on the sharp thorns of this plant. From adults it earns most of its curses from its highly invasive nature, colonizing meadows and clogging trails. We have been battling this plant in our backyard in the wild strip of land that runs along the Bedens Brook.

Multiflora rose is not without at least some merit. Isn’t that the way in nature? This week that has been apparent in the sweet smell of wild rose drifting across the countryside.  Emerson enjoyed their rapturous scent, avoiding the thorns while sniffing bunches of their small white blossoms. Each time he would lift his head, nose twitching and dusted in pollen, wearing a large smile. “I really like that!”

This weekend, we will again go after the multiflora rose in the backyard with clippers. Isn’t that the way with human nature? The older children will clear it away from the brook so that they can explore and find natural treasure or just keep their feet cool on a hot summer day. Next year, for a brief period of time, they will all stop again and take note of this plant’s sweet gift.

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Wow - doesn’t this look and smell like negligence?!?! I was last seen blogging hereabouts on March 21 and simply haven’t looked back since. It might seem to the casual reader that I have neglected my innate responsibilities to take my children by the hand and dance to the beat of the natural world. It might seem that I have given up playing with words or expressing ideas in print. Let me assure you that this is NOT the case. It has been a glorious spring, so glorious indeed that I have simply enjoyed basking in her glow far from the glare of this or any other screen. Alas, I return, because I like sharing, hope to inspire, and love playing with words.

So what exactly have I been doing out there in the world of Nature with my children? Well, it would be foolish to try to share seven weeks of spring activity with you but I will attempt to illuminate here and now just a little bit of what has been going on. The most consistent activity shared with children in nature outside of my work at the Buttinger Nature Center is gardening with my youngest child Emerson.

We have spent a great deal of time tending our very long, dry, shade garden beneath our spruce trees. Emerson helped feed the plants, shoveling compost about each of their “feet”; kept them “cozy” by mulching the bed; and even moved some to a new neighborhood beneath our big pin oak tree. He enjoyed using his new shovel to loosen the soil for this bed. We visited the local nursery where he helped pick some flowers for that garden as well as some for Mothers Day that we will plant together in mom’s flower garden.  He also asked if he could take some pictures of the garden. Wow! Check out his violet picture!

Emerson consistently joins me in the garden. Our vegetable garden has been getting lots of attention lately. He helped prepare the garden, using his shovel and rake to help turn the soil and making the “football goalpost” path around the beds. He helped shovel and spread the compost. He has met our helpers - the earthworms who help prepare the soil and make food available for the plants, and the wolf spiders who keep a constant patrol for pests. And he has helped plant the seeds and plants as spring has progressed. Broccoli, spinach and arugula are taking shape but I fear for the basil which will certainly suffer from this late batch of cold weather.   

I have always loved gardening. It is part of my dance on the planet, an intimate interaction with plants that will sustain me and my family. It provides an escape from the unfathomable busy-ness of the world and solace for my heart.   But gardening with Emerson, or children in general, fills the soul. With the crystal clear vision of a child you gain a deeper appreciation for the act of gardening and our place in the world. You kindle that sense of wonder that shines a light on almost everything around us. If you are planting, anything, anywhere, take a child by the hand and let him or her show you what it is really all about.

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Springtime is undeniably here. I no longer have to wax poetic, the naturalist and the Muse. I can just point my finger at the calendar, and out the door.

It is impossible NOT to notice the arrival of spring now. My windows are open, allowing the birdsong with its growing urgency to drift inside. Outside our spring flowers have popped. Emerson and I tour the yard EVERY DAY to see what new flower has come up - “Look Daddy, a different white crocus” or “Let me show you what Mommy found - a tulip!” At work, I have challenged my staff of naturalists to find each weed as it comes into bloom (five species blooming in our lawn alone)!

So here is the message, no different than any other day but possibly more needed - GET OUT THERE!  That simple. BE outside. There goes a question mark butterfly (Really, that is its name)! Tree swallows are drifting back! Those are spring peepers calling! Look under that log - a sow bug and a salamander! There doesn’t need to be a method, or honestly even an agenda - just receptivity. Sharpen your senses and open your heart. Spring is here!

Just think - if this last storm had been a cold snow, we would now have about four feet of snow on the ground! It has been a memorable winter but frankly, with spring fully in motion, I am glad that we got saturated instead of buried.

The onset of spring is becoming more and more obvious each day. I share these various signs each day with friends, workmates and my family. My youngest Emerson takes a studious approach to this. “Is this day longer too?”

I share the signs of spring around the house. The blooming snowdrops. The green shoots of daffodils. The increase of bird song, especially the titmice and cardinals in the yard. The robins on the lawn. The worms. There is some new sign of spring to find just about every day.

With the approach of yesterday’s storm, I began wondering if this would be the salamander rain in the Sourlands - the rain which brings the spotted salamanders up out of the soil for their grand coming out party of swimming, dancing, and, umm, sex. With the heavy rain and lower temperatures, I had my doubts that this would be the rain so I stayed at home last night - safe from falling trees - and decided to make a visit today. There was not a salamander in sight but the woods up in the Sourlands contained plenty of magic.

The woods were simply saturated and you could hear running water everywhere. The dull colors of winter were enlivened by their saturation. Emerson found a brilliant golden jelly fungus on a branch that had blown down. He touched it after examining it discovering how it got its name (or should it be the ‘rubbery fungus’?) He put it down on the side of the trail so that “others could see it.”

As we searched the overflowing pools for any salamanders, we were drawn downstream to the running water. Each of us - adult, teenager, and youngster - picked up sticks to launch them on journeys through riotous rapids downstream. If there is any activity that I would consider myself an expert, it would be just this - floating stick boats. I have been doing this all my life - from the roadside gutters in suburban California and New Jersey to daylong journeys down streams and brooks.

We launched many stick boats. Sometimes they got stuck. Zachary fashioned a stick that could be used to ‘rescue’ any of our boats when they got hung up.  Emerson simply could not launch enough sticks - “One more Daddy, one more!” There was plenty of wood moving downstream thanks to all the wind-pruning but there was even more when we were through. We returned home after our exploration in the Sourlands with dry feet and high spirits. We will visit again soon, watchful for the spotted salmanders, and ready to launch another boat or two.

Some of you are losing your smiles. I am hearing those late winter gripes - “When is this going to end?” Even though this last snow didn’t really clobber us the way it clobbered others, we are in the midst of a record-setting snow season . Some of you have lost your perspective. You say this is no fun. But you are very mistaken - this is snow fun!

This snow is wetter and heavier than its predecessors so shoveling is not part of the fun for the kids. Zach tackles the sidewalk and Emerson tries for a bit to help but finds the snow too heavy. He tries to build a snowman. He tries to roll the snow into a big ball but the snow has a funny texture at first and doesn’t quite stick enough. He just piles up snow the best he can. Scavenging outdoors, he adds traprock eyes and a sprig of spruce as the mouth.

He wants no help and makes quick work of this. There are too many other things to do with the snow - climb it, make tracks, make snow angels, go sledding. Emerson does it all. When he is done, ready to rest, we go on a snowman tour.

Now I’m not sure when the last snowman census was conducted, nor just what trends it might have revealed, but it seems pretty clear to me that snowmen are almost becoming an endangered race. Have we forgotten how much fun snowmen are? And snowladies? I’m not sure I saw one snowlady this season. What fun is that? I remember when my sister Linda made a rather buxom snowlady on her front lawn. I think it was the first and only time the local paper welcomed nudity on their pages!

Tonight, well fed and under cover of darkness, we decided to give the gift of a snowman to Auntie Lyn. Together we rolled the requisite three large balls of snow. The snow was wet from some melting during the day, and beginning to crust over in the cold. With some struggle, we assembled the body parts and scavenged the nearby roadside and driveway for some facial features. We gave the snowman two faces - one facing the road and one facing the house. I hope it makes it through the night.

Go ahead and gripe about the snow all you want but it is the snowpeople who have the most valid complaint. Just look around. The approach of spring presents a real threat to their well-being. Green grass at their feet? That’s scary business. The lengthening day - now there’s a real seasonal affective disorder! The rise of morning bird song? It all sounds like a funeral dirge to them. Don’t be surprised when you find the snowpeople in your neighborhood all slumped over and losing their smiles! Just help them out, and pick it up off the ground for them.

At this point in the season, I have to admit that I watch each coming snow storm with some level of amusement. The snow brings uncomfortable, challenging and even outright dangerous conditions at times but we need only to look at the calendar to see that we are just about to flip a page to . . . Spring. We all just need a sense of humor.

With fresh snow falling this morning it is hard not to be excited. While the older children go off school (for an early dismissal day), my youngest lad puts on his boots, grabs his hat, gloves, and snowsuit to get ready for the snow that will surely accumulate today. Right now it is snowing but almost 40 degrees.

Just yesterday Emerson and I were listening to a cardinal sing - “Spring is near, near, near” it seemed to be insisting.  Cardinals and titmice start singing in earnest in mid-February and despite the snow, this year is no different.

Before heading out the door, Emerson spies the birds “going crazy” outside. I ask him what he means and he says “Look” pointing at the juncos hopping to and fro in search of seeds before the snow covers them again. “Why don’t we feed them?”

Outside we hear only crows this morning. I grab a big pan full of birdseed and Emerson and I take a tour around the yard. By the handful, Emerson begins scattering birdseed, throwing some toward the juncos, then atop of snow piles, along the sidewalk, and underneath the trees. He is making his offering to the birds.

As we toss some seed together upon the exposed flower beds beneath the spruces, we find a little bit of spring. Under snow for the last couple weeks, the green tips of some of our spring plants are poking out of the earth. “Spring is near” I tell Emerson. “Yes, Daddy, but let’s have some fun in the snow.”

My last post here was entitled “Bring It On”. Well, it was brought on all right. Depending on your age, we are now hip deep in snow and it has been some time since this amount of snow lingered on this landscape. This of course has led to a significant amount of snow shoveling but it has also led to other pastimes as well.

This second batch of deep snow - 18″ at our house - had a little more heft to it. Luckily, my shoveling strategy paid off, with one round of digging during the lull in the storm and then, of course, more digging at the very end. Because this snow had a higher moisture content, it was more compactable. Through the course of clearing our driveway and sidewalks, we managed to craft a couple of modest snow forts.

The end of the storm brought on a memorable snowball fight in our neighborhood. Oh, the joys of compactable snow! Everyone came in at dark, completely covered with snow from head to toe. Now this is how snow should be enjoyed!

It was nice to see a few snowmen (and some women too) appear in the aftermath of this storm. Several snowpeople inhabit our neighborhood now though some are not in the best of health. With brilliant sunshine and daytime temperatures above freezing, some have fallen over, lost body parts or are leaning precariously.

The deep snow has made every hill, large or small, attractive for sledding. By sledding, I don’t actually mean the Flexible Flyer type with two metal runners - this is too deep. This is toboggan snow, suitable for inflatable discs, plastic discs, and other assorted snow toys with broad surfaces. We enjoyed some serious sliding but we’ll have more on this later.

The continuous snowfall has left little time for writing here. Instead, we have been busy enjoying this wonderful gift of deep snow . . . digging, sculpting, building, sliding, and having snowball fights. Frankly, I am exhausted and it seems like the snow just keeps coming. I’ll continue about the snow next time but in the meantime, I am going to rest and get some new snow shovels.

It’s snowing outside. The kids are going to bed knowing that school has already been canceled for tomorrow whether this storm really buries us or not. Emerson is hoping that this is a good “building” snow. I prefer the dry powdery snow that was left behind after the last snowstorm. It was very easy to shovel.

I will be glad to have new snow cover - more blank pages for the local denizens to inscribe with their secret stories. I enjoyed exploring these tracks with Emerson. They were also a big hit with visitors and programs at the Nature Center.

With our preschool Birds and Pinecone Feeders program, youngsters admired the bird tracks in the snow. Their tracks appear in pairs, revealing their hopping pattern. Emerson loves imitating this and leaving his “bird tracks”. While deep snow can be a problem for larger animals to move around in,  birds have no problem hopping across the surface without falling through. If you look closely, you will see the feather and wingprints where the birds took flight.

Like the birds, white-footed mice have no problem moving across the surface of the snow. They too move by hopping but leave prints of their four tiny feet. As they hop they usually leave a mark where their tail drags in the snow. In the forest they often use runways, disappearing into hollows in trees or fallen logs. Here are the tracks of a crazy mouse taking a rather scenic route from one location to another.

While the kids may relish the snow, a deep snow presents a challenge for animals like the skunk. Skunks have rather short legs so they leave a lot of tracks as they wander.  At the Nature Center, a skunk has left its meandering trail of tracks as it investigated all the old groundhog holes in the area. Because of its short legs, the skunk actually plowed its way through the snow.

Once this storm has ended, the snow will collect more and more tracks. They are easy to find, even in your neighborhood. Join your children and explore.  In the meantime, I know that this snow will fuel some snow dreams tonight in our house.  Have a great day off tomorrow kids!