Golden currants cascade in clusters from twig and branch. All things proceed rapidly towards quick conclusion. The snows melt quickly. The rivers rise, rush and rage. Then subside to a proceed at a dignified pace. Fur-lined nests are empty within mere days after baby rabbits have been born. The occupants, now half-grown, are out on their own.
Currant bushes, covered with delicate yellow flowers but a few weeks ago, are now gloriously bejeweled with golden fruit. Everything is in a hurry to burst forth, grow and mature before our brief summer ends.
Rythmns are different here. The long slow winter, slipping and sliding into May, jumps into summer by the second week of June, then jumps out again by August's end as if the water is already much too cold.
I am watching the golden clusters carefully. If I want my jar of jam, I must be quick. Cedar waxwings know precisely the hour when the berries are truly best. I have found it almost impossible to teach wild birds how to share.
Photo credit: Natalie Neal Whitefield