It’s 59 on the porch this morning, with a light drizzle and wind. There was an inch in the rain gauge, and it continues to drizzle. There was a brief thunderstorm yesterday afternoon that caught us just as we were loading the truck and soaked us to the bone, but most of the rain came overnight.
The dogwoods look refreshed, and the heavy pollen is mercifully gone for the moment. Despite the brief heavy rain, I’ve only seen one dogwood blossom on the ground. But the crab apple blossoms seem to have suffered a bit.
The first trillium is out of the ground, on the northwest slope.
The lowbush blueberry leafed out overnight. The hickories are in leaf – Mockernut, Pignut, and Shellbark – and some of the oaks are starting.
It’s a spring version of our mountain weather, grey skies against different shades of green, shifting mists, and light drizzle.
“Drist,” Thoreau would have called it – drizzling mist – or perhaps mizzle. He uses both terms in his Journal, and they seem to mean the same thing – drizzle with mist.