The greening is on!

Have you not noticed?

Not long ago I attended an event where I witnessed two retired women engaged in a vicious match of oneupmanship. One said, “I was a teacher for 36 years.” The other said, “I was a teacher for 40 years.” The first, we’ll call her Marge, said, “I’ve been subbing and it’s so great to see the kids!” The other, let’s name her Jan, said, “When I sub they beg me to come back the next day.” Marge noted that when the senior boys graduated last year they all asked for her to attend. Jan rebutted that she was the guest of honor for the whole senior class, that they wanted “Mrs. B” on the stage with them. Marge, taken off guard, replied that she, too, is “Mrs. B.” Jan wasted zero seconds in swooping in for the kill: “Oh, they got me a jacket with Mrs. B embroidered on it. Here it is…” and pulled forth the triumphant lapel, duly marked with her name.

That happened. Later, Marge tried to recover some dignity after she heard Jan complaining about how even though this year’s winter served less wallop than usual, spring has not yet arrived and she is impatient for it. From the end of the row Marge chided, forte: “The Greening Is On, Jan! Have You Not Noticed?”

Well, I cannot deny Marge’s righteousness on this last count, though she was soundly crushed in the match that mattered. We in the arid/high elevation/north country eagerly await these days, when new grass overtakes hillside browns, trees shyly unfurl bright green leaves, and the bushes bend toward new growth. Last week I drove 1400 miles in a giant loop around Montana and saw evidence everywhere: the seeded fields, shadowed draws, great grassy sweeps along the badlands of the Missouri Breaks.

Midstate greening. Near Jordan, MT.

Back in Missoula, we were inundated with rain through the first part of this week. That weather system has finally cleared out and made way for what promises to be a stunning weekend, with sunny skies for days. The moisture coupled with the first days of warmth have already yielded positively shaggy yards, yellow dandelions popping their cheery faces up and over unruly tufts of grass and tulips popping wildly along overgrown sidewalks. As I walked to my neighborhood coffee shop this morning, the green everywhere overwhelmed me!

Neighborhood bushes in Missoula

One of the projects I undertook on the HiLine was recording at the Fort Peck Tribes Language and Culture Department. A lesson we’re developing will teach students words for months and days. Unsurprisingly, the English translation of the Dakota name for “April” is “Snow Again Moon.”¹ And “May” is Pȟeží Tȟó Wí: “Moon of Green Grass.”

Last year, the green phase here lasted through the end of June, on the high plains and in the mountainous west, before it changed into its summer outfit, a brownish affair with dusty, tired leaves just waiting for fall. But as Jan noted, this past winter came and went a bit weakly, and we expect to experience dry conditions earlier this summer. I dream the green lasts as long again, but I suppose we can count on May at least: Pȟeží Tȟó Wí.

My loop. Montana, USA.

1. If you live in Montana, you will get this.