The End of the Brown Season

A walk in my garden on a rainy March morning

Sarah Kelsey

Mar 10, 2025

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Close-up of a thin tree branch stretching from left to right across a tan background. The branch has a few clusters of cauliflorous flowers -- growing right from the branch instead of new shoots. They are all closed, very bright pink-purple buds, with darker (but still bright) calyces of fused sepals. — Eastern redbud in my backyard, not quite blooming

First, I noticed the brushy lines of dark red stretching into the sky — wide, hazy borders along each branch of the red maple trees that have suddenly transformed from bare branches to hundreds of blooms.

Then I noticed the white against the blue sky, like fluffy clouds close to earth — branches of the Bradford pears along Main Street adorned with lacy globes. The much-maligned invasive street tree produces rows of flowers in rounded clusters called cymes; stalks emerge from a shared source, like a hand clasping a bouquet, and each stalk yields a single flower.

Driving home through Atlanta, I noticed more white flowers — magnolias lining the streets in full bloom, the white and pale pink flowers’ long tepals fluttering in the breeze like wide ribbons.

The next morning, from my kitchen window, I saw that the Chickasaw plum had begun to bloom. Pearly buds lined the delicate purplish branches, interspersed with open blossoms of thin white petals, each one like a tissue paper construction.

Rainy, dark gray, dreary scene with a closeup of a group of a few bright white flowers with many yellow-tipped anthers, hanging down from a thin, dark purplish-brown branch that stretches across the dark gray frame. — Chickasaw plum on a rainy March morning

Though the morning had begun with blue sky, rain quickly moved in. The unbroken layer of clouds obscured the sun, their inky gray fitting the muted landscape of late winter.

Brightened by moisture, lichens glowed. These blue-green ruffles, wrapped around tree trunks and fallen branches, were not alone in dispelling the gloom. Lending strength, the earliest spring flowers have appeared throughout the city, assisting in bringing cheer to dim, cold days.

Blueberry buds, clusters of pale pink pointed ovals with darker pink sepals at the base of each. — Backyard blueberry buds

Each season brings a realization of something I’ve overlooked, something I've surely encountered but never noticed before. At the end of autumn, it was the sweetgum seeds falling onto the backyard like snow; now, at winter’s end, it is elm tree flowers. I see the elm tree every day. I knew it flowered, but I overlooked the blooms that, from the kitchen window, look small, pale, and utterly unextraordinary. Up close, however, each is a dense group of thread-thin, bright green stalks suspended from the twigs like tassels, and from each of these hangs a pink, bell-shaped bloom from which dangle dark, violet-red anthers.

Close-up of a twig with elm flowers, as described in detail in the text. — My backyard elm in bloom

The elm tree is once again host to a variety of avian visitors, after weeks during which blackbirds swarmed its branches and the two platform feeders that hang from them. Woodpeckers, nuthatches, and sparrows would timidly approach, but rarely attempted to share the feeders with the dozens of raucous blackbirds. Sparrows — song, white-throated, and chipping — stuck to the ground. With pine and yellow-rumped warblers, they foraged for whatever fell from the platform feeders, or whatever dwelled among the leaf litter. Even the bold, bossy cardinals stayed away.

The blackbirds still visit, but no longer crowd the feeders. The bluebirds have returned. House, purple, and goldfinches join them at their meals. Sparrows and warblers no longer restrict themselves to the ground, where daffodils nod their brilliant yellow heads.

A small, white-bellied woodpecker with black and white wings, a black stripe across a white face, and a patch of red at the top of his head, clinging parallel to the trunk of a tree. — A downy woodpecker on the trunk of the elm

A small bird on a branch. The bird has black eyes, a white face, white breast, white belly, and dark grayish-black wings and head. — A white-breasted nuthatch on an elm branch

Next to the elm, tiny blossoms emerge in pairs against slender spicebush branches. The effect of dozens of these miniature, bright blossoms — yellow with just a hint of lime green — is similar to stars in a dark sky; to the sparse, short dandelions that have pushed through the carpet of dormant leaves; and to the bright yellow lores on the earthy plumage of the white-throated sparrow.

A single slender branch of spice bush stretchin from bottom to top of the frame, with very tiny yellow flowers arrange in pairs close to the branch, each a few inches apart from the next pair. — Spicebush blooms in the backyard

What’s Under That Log?

The following photos did not fit into the text above, but I didn’t want to exclude them, as I’ll probably find new and exciting things to share next week, too! Perhaps this will be a regular newsletter section for a few weeks.

This is the time of year to flip logs. You’ll find cool bugs and you might even find a salamander! Please flip logs ethically and responsibly to avoid accidentally harming or killing wildlife.

I am still flipping logs around my neighborhood and looking for the hexapod treasures described last week. This week’s most exciting discovery is at top right —Ptenothrix renatae, a very small, dark brown globular springtail with a fabulously fancy back pattern. Hover over the gallery below for alt-text including both image descriptions (as all my alt-text does) and identifications.