352 Editor's Note
My friend’s 4-year-old son knew exactly where spring showers came from – the giant puppy in heaven.
As he explained it, God has a giant puppy, and when that puppy gets wet, it shakes and shakes itself dry, sending showers down to earth.
“That’s why,” he concluded matter-of-factly, “it smells like that after it rains.”
Wet dog. Of course, that earthworm smell after strong rain is really soggy puppy. Perfect sense in 4-year-old logic.
Up North here, we all become 4-year-olds when spring arrives – for a day or two, at least.
Once those balmy 35° F temperatures hit, our college kids start wearing shorts and flipflops and can be found “sunning” on campuses in lawn chairs, settling between lingering piles of snow.
It is hard not to get a little giddy. The transition from winter to spring can be like a switch from Dorothy’s movie-set Kansas to the land of Oz, going from black and white into a miracle of colors.
Bob Gross, our featured photographer this issue who shows us some under-the-sun favorites, says winter really is monochromatic in many ways.
“There is a lot of winter photography, it almost doesn’t matter if you shoot in black and white or color,” he explains. “It’s gradients of black on white and shadows.”
Then comes spring. Granted, it starts with a lot of muddy browns, kind of easing us into those first amazing young greens. Everyone who lives up here or who visits in the early spring and summer knows what I mean – those amazing yellow greens, so distinctly spring in nature. Later, in our summer, many of our greens mature to the dark forest hues.
After spring rains, the brave irises and daffodils poke through the wet soil and maybe melting snows. (Bayfield actually seeds the season, bringing in the flowers to wake up the landscape for its Bayfield in Bloom. That is giddy – or giddy-up spring.)
Smells – wet puppies, earthy richness and budding trees – do come alive, not all of them pleasant after lingering under the snow and ice, but refreshing nonetheless.
Sounds, too, erupt. Bird songs, absent most winter days when the little winged ones reserve their strength to survive that season, suddenly fill the air. The birds are silly in love, of course – another reason the season seems so Oz.
Everyone has a version of how to mark when spring arrives. Many signs of spring can be found throughout this issue.
Fishing, and the fishing opener, is one. We help you to plan for the best use of those fish with our festive focus on two eating favorites – walleye and whitefish. Bob Berg and Juli Kellner show us their regional economic and culinary influences.
For sixth-graders in the Twin Ports, spring means their turn at River Quest, for 21 years an annual rite of spring passage that gives them the tools for being stewards of our watersheds. Writer Thomas Vaughn takes us along as they make their discoveries.
In our Recreation Guide, naturalist David Brislance describes how he has become a pied piper to birds, which eat right out of his hand, and Phil Bencomo gives us sound advice on how to keep safe on the open waters.
On our Travel & Events pages, you’ll find lots of activities to start you moving into the new season, including how to plan a visit to the “spring rush” cascading over Minnesota’s North Shore waterfalls and how to get the chance to spy on the heavens in the new observatory at Fort William Historical Park in Thunder Bay. You can visit just as the constellations will switch from winter into summer arrangements. Hey, you might even see that puppy up there!
For me, spring means unpacking the garden geegaws designed to distract people from the fact that I am a truly bad gardener. The first thing that will come up among my perennials? The insane oregano plant that consumes my herb garden. Who knew it would become invasive? I’m hoping to find a good walleye or whitefish recipe using lots of fresh oregano. Meanwhile I’m waiting – waiting to see the arrival of our Wizard of Spring … and his pup.