When you were a child, did you ever watch a parent or older sibling getting ready for a night out? Sitting on a bed observing the person go through a step-by-step transformation: carefully retrieving and donning the special outfit; styling their hair; applying make-up; buffing or polishing their nails; selecting the perfect jewelry and other adornments; slipping into a matching pair of fancy shoes. The final step: standing and twirling in front of the captive audience for approval.
This time of year, I feel like that captive audience every time I step outside. At the end of May the trees in Nova Scotia have the appearance of tall, slender young women decked out for an old-fashioned ball. Over the past two weeks they have been assembling their wardrobes and now, finally, the grand reveal.
After long months of monochromatic slumber, the trees are fresh-faced and bright and showing off their finery. Tender, recently unfurled leaves create patterns like delicate lace against the sky. Between my fingertips, the fledgling leaves feel like smoothest silk and satin. The tamaracks’ tassel-like emerging needles are the softest brush of cashmere.
And all around, fine accessories complete the look. The still-tented leaves of the maples resemble dainty little parasols. Wild apple and chokecherry blossoms call to mind nosegays tucked into hair or pinned to the bodice of a gown. Lupin leaves cradle sparkling dew jewels waiting to adorn the ears, fingers, and throat.
The festooned ladies sway in the spring breezes as if dancing to the music of the songbirds. The trembling aspens rustle like tinkling laughter. Very soon their attention will turn to more serious things: fruit bearing and seed spreading and sheltering nestlings. But first they are enjoying a well-deserved moment of frivolity. And I will watch, captivated, like a little girl at the foot of the bed.
Lana