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They call it the January Thaw, and as usual, it caught me by surprise once again. I go racing out the door bundled up
like I'm headed out to go dog-sledding and I crash right into fifty degree air. Wonderful, lose the hat.
Now, really, it IS January. Nothing, but NOTHING is in bloom. So why does the air smell so absolutely wonderful? I'll tell you. MUD. That's it, the smell of MUD. Can't be anything else. You know "It's Spring" when you wake up and smell the mud. And I wasn't the only one. The drowsiest honeybee I ever met was floating around the deck all puzzled because there weren't any flowers to explore. The buds that appeared in the fall with thoughts of remaining in suspended animation for the cold days swell just a tiny bit on a day like this with no more effort than when we turn over in our sleep. Narcoleptic waterfalls pick up where they left off mid-sentence before they fell into a frozen sleep. And all that mud just smiles. I'm astonished at how many years I would have sworn that January was colorless. Once you get out in it, the shades of brownishness are just wonderful. The loostrife is a light blondish-beige against the red osier dogwoods. And the beech trees, for all they go rusty-brown right on cue as soon as the yellow maples have given over the stage, spend the rest of the winter being individuals. Some stay deep rust, others slowly fade to tan and only certain ones will still be waving white leaves come spring. But I found that going for a drive brought out the waves of color to me. I saw large stands of Japanese Knotweed , a pinkish shade of rust with all these little strings where the flower clusters used to be. I can't really describe the texture, because the strong upright stems are rendered so delicate by these hundreds of whisps at every joint. This is truly one of the great chameleons of weeds. In the earliest spring, shoots emerge straight up from the ground looking for all the world like scrappy asparagus. For anyone who's actually tried to get RID of Japanese Knotweed (Polygonum cuspidatum), surely the
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