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Letters from America, Spring! by Candia Petersons
Header image: Mid-April and my favourite Sycamore stands out against a bare background © Candia Peterson
The Catskill Mountains lie to the West of the Hudson River valley and about three hours north of New York City. Not really mountains in the Alpine sense, the region mixes densely forested rolling hills with arable farmland in the numerous river valleys that run through them. Villages are small and quaint, mostly dating back to before the Civil War and, for the most part, it is a sparsely populated and a very lovely part of the US in which to live.
There is, however, a catch and as I was remarking to my son earlier this week, there is no getting around it, winter in the Catskills definitely lasts six months with the other three seasons sharing the remaining half of the year. The reality is that from mid-November to mid-May, we are subject to a lot of snow, perishing temperatures with their accompanying frostbite warnings from the local met office (we managed minus 30 C for about two weeks solid this year) strong winds and a general sense of living inside a fridge.
The last snowfall brings winter back in late April
© Candia Peterson
The last snowfall brings winter back in late April
© Candia Peterson
Though the canny locals don’t put out their seedlings or hanging baskets until Memorial Day (last Monday in May) as I write on the 18th May, we have started to see some temperatures that feel like summer. Spring is gone in the blink of an eye (or an hour mid-morning). One day last week we woke up to a frost and minus 3 degrees C; by lunch time we were at plus 34. The Tuesday after Easter we had a foot of snow; by the Thursday we were up in the mid-twenties and suffered flash flooding caused by the melt. Even the trees don’t believe in spring until it’s summer – most of those that produce blossom only do so after they have sprouted their leaves and then only a little bit.
Daffodils and Forsythia display their yellow around now, at least a couple of months later than those back in Blighty. In no time at all, the brief experience that is spring will give way to hot and steamy days, little respite at night, a lot of thunderstorms and lush green summer forests.
The reward of course for all of that is the glory of the “Fall Colours” and there are numerous “Leaf Peeking” festivals and country fairs. It is easy to look forward to this, possibly the best part of the local year with perfect temperatures and wonderful vistas. Only problem with that is that we all know what’s coming next!
Red maple buds give an almost autumnal hue to the early Spring
© Candia Peterson
The greening of May starts to creep up the hills but frosts are still prevalent
© Candia Peterson
As I am coming out of my third winter in the Catskills, my local knowledge has expanded, I’ve found hiking trails and woodland reasonably close by and, as I’ve developed a habit of going out in the car most Sundays (and other days when work allows, but the roads are empty on Sundays) with the camera, I’m getting to know all the sites I love to visit and revisit over the course of the year. I’ve spent the last month – in which all these images were taken – picking my way through the vestiges of winter, slipping and sliding over snow to spot some signs of greening up and enjoying the local mountains starting to change colour from ground level up.
The transition to summer is almost complete and with it come the storms
© Candia Peterson
An empty country road
© Candia Peterson
My silver birch one month on
© Candia Peterson
Covered as they are with a mix of oak, birch, sugar maple (syrup is a local produce) and red maple, the red leaf buds of the last give the hills an almost autumnal colour to what were bare grey trees before they spring into leaf. Also common in these parts is the American sycamore, a wonderful tree with bright white bark that comes into leaf only at the tips of its smallest branches. A particularly lovely specimen is a five-minute drive from home and it is a tree that I have come to watch and photograph often. It stands across the Delaware River (which flows through the village) from the only vantage point but is backed by woodland that is entirely typical of the landscape around me.
Silver birch are another of my favourite local species
© Candia Peterson
Silver birch are another of my favourite local species
My only sadness as winter fades via an itinerant spring into summer is that there isn’t a bluebell to be seen in the local woodland. I suppose they are not native to North America and no-one has introduced them. I did try planting bulbs in the wooded end of my garden but none survived which is possibly why. Later – mid June – we will start to see wild phlox but it isn’t quite the same.
Earlier this week I was doing a “searching for spring” reccie on a road close to my village that I hadn’t ventured down before. I was driving along very happily taking in the scenery looking down the banked verge to the river when what should I see but a locomotive! Screeching to a halt, I reversed to have another, closer look. This was very puzzling as the nearest useful train station is a two-hour drive away and there aren’t even any freight tracks within a 50-mile radius. What the hell was a train doing there, effectively in a ditch? I had to photograph this so I hopped out of the car and was snapping away when a battered old pick-up truck pulled up beside me. The elderly woman who was driving yelled at me through her open window that the train was hers and it was private property. Okay, I showed her the camera and smiled encouragingly and she mellowed somewhat. I asked her how she got it there, it was lifted in by crane in she told me. Why? Why not, came back the response. And with that, off she went leaving her much treasured rusty old locomotive in its ditch and me not really any the wiser. I guess that’s America!
What the…..?
© Candia Peterson
