Bare choirs soon to be singing

I did some much-needed yardwork today. My exceedingly vigorous antique rose bush—Old Blush—in conspiracy with some equally robust ruellia, was beginning to make a Sleeping Beauty Castle-type move on the back of our house.

And being out in intimate contact with this plant life (I've got the scratches to prove it!) got me to thinking about how soon spring will be here. It was especially obvious as I saw that some weeds have already started to move in on our front yard, in particular this nasty little number below on the left. It's fortunately easy to remove, but I was careful to wear gloves—its leaves are sticky and they secrete something that bothers. Can someone tell me the beasty's name?

But back to the trees, whose bare branches always remind me of the line from Shakepeare's Sonnet #73 that I borrowed for my title today. The shapely specimen at the top of the blog was next to my car in the parking lot at work today and I'm embarrassed to admit I can't remember what it looked like with leaves and can't identify it from its winter state. So I'll have to wait until it leafs out to tell you what it is.

The one below is easier, though, since it's in my front yard and I vividly remember when it was planted there, probably 20 years ago. It's a cedar elm and it will be looking especially lovely in a month or so when its leaves start to come out. Cedar elms and mesquite look so lacy in their new leaves; the sight of them is one of the things I look forward to most eagerly in the spring. (btw, my daughter-in-law noticed a colorful addition to this tree last month—it's just out of the frame here—and took a lovely picture of it for her blog.)


You can also tell that it won't be long before some of these bare branches will be bare no longer when you look at the ornamental pear tree in my neighbor's yard. It's one of our earlier leaf-ers and you can see the swelling of the leaf buds clearly already....


Of course some guys don't do the bare, ruined bit at all around here. On the left is a live oak, also in the parking lot, which just replenishes its leaves gradually throughout the year. And on the right is our Monterey oak, which loses its leaves almost all at once, not in the fall but in the spring, when they're pushed out by the new crew. Long after most folks on my block have stopped having do any raking, we always have a good bit to do when this guy does his spring leaf switch.

I'll be keeping a close eye on all the trees I photographed today and will try to catch them (and some others as I can) as they start to leaf into spring, and then when they're finally in their spring/summer finery in full. When not only are the sweet birds singing, but those sweet leaves are also there, blessing us with their priceless shade.