Budding trillium

Although most of the ground atop Beech Hill is still brown with last year’s leaves, the buds of both wake-robin (Trillium erectum, also known as purple or red trillium) and sessile-leaved bellwort (Uvularia sessilifolia, also called wild oats) are thinking ahead. I know from past years that the wildflowers atop Beech Hill will be blooming by May Day, so yesterday I took a quick dog-walk up the hill and back to catch a sneak peek at spring in the making. Sure enough, I found buds amongst the brown: a foretaste of next week’s flowers.

Budding bellwort

This is my quick and dirty contribution to this week’s Photo Friday theme, Brown. Given that I wanted to blog these pictures anyway, I figured the fact that their background is brown qualified as ample excuse.

Fresh paint, with lock and graffiti

The first time I walked up Beech Hill here in Keene, the municipal water tower was unfenced and covered with graffiti. One year later, the tower had been surrounded by a tall fence…and it was still covered with graffiti.

Fresh paint, with fence and graffiti

Last week, I walked with Reggie up Beech Hill to see if the wood frogs were calling, but the woods were still partly snow-covered. (In the meantime, I’ve heard wood frogs quacking elsewhere.) In the process of looking for wood frogs, though, I discovered that the City of Keene has finally gotten around to painting over the graffiti that’s covered the Beech Hill water tower since before it was fenced. And in due fashion, some intrepid street-artist has scaled the fence to leave the first of presumably many tags, the blank canvas of a freshly painted water tower apparently begging to be so claimed.

Newly tagged

It took the City of Keene nearly four years–from the first time I walked up Beech Hill in May, 2004 until now–to paint over the same old graffiti…and it took some intrepid street-artist a matter of months (if that!) to make the first claim on this territory. As a writer, I can understand the impulse: there’s something about a blank page that beckons. In a season of fresh leaves, isn’t it tempting to turn over a new one by making one’s mark on a fresh slate, intoxicated by the promise of fresh paint?