The dogwood itself snagged me as I was hiding eggs for the girls this afternoon. We had a raucous egg hunt, and then I stood there trying to get my camera to focus on tiny things close up.

I used three layers of silk that I colored with markers. I am not at all sure about this one – it lacks contrast, but the form is completely correct. I think I need to do the coloring differently. Since the dogwood blooms are still opening, I'll have more chances!

I always forget that pussy willows are actually flowers, until they go through this metamorphosis from sleek soft gray things to vibrant yellow green spiked and blopped aliens.

Spring is leaping out all over. The skunk cabbage is up. I picked a leaf once to see why it was called skunk cabbage and understood instantly. The marsh marigolds are not quite there yet. Lady slippers and Jack in the pulpit (how do you pluralize that anyhow?) are above ground but not yet blooming. The blossoms on trees always amaze me. I think my brain generalizes trees=leaves, and this precursor step is glossed over.

Three small blooming trees in a row. I am pleased with the way the trees overlap, and the blossoms get larger and thicker from back to front. There still needs to be something else in the middle/back ground. They are looking a bit floaty for my taste.

I realized I've been having issues with figure and ground. Figure is generally what you want people to be focussing on, and ground is, well, background. I'm having trouble with these lovely lacey things like the flowering trees being different enough from the background.

I think this is better. I like the silk organza in the background, it makes it smoother, less noticable. I can try more of that.

The wind is whistling around, and everything with branches is being tossed about in front of it. The weeping willow branches are streaming off downwind. I like the color of the willow branches in spring; they go through yellow to bronze to brilliant spring green when the leaves are new and tiny. Later they will be softer looking and darker green, when the leaves get bigger and longer and more feathery.

Al, who has a flair for naming things and a loose grasp of horticulture, came home from grad school one spring day and told me "there are the most amazing trees in the middle of town, and they've all exploded in the last day, like, like… like giant ploofy flashbulbs".

And so the crab apple trees that line the main street of Amherst (which is not, in fact, Main Street for historical reasons) have been ploofy flashbulb trees ever since. He is also the one who described Highland cattle as hairy volkswagens with horns.

Like I said, a flair for naming.

Every Easter my mother used to do this astonishing magic trick. With two or three crayons and a white egg, she would make these short, meaningful lines and forsythia and daffodils would appear. Then she'd dip the top in blue, and the bottom in green, and the sun would shine on a tiny, perfect spring scene on an egg.

After a month of balck and white a gray, I felt like I was intentionally showing you only the gray, the cloudy, the rainy days and black of night. It is a giant relief to be able to apply color again.

For April I have decided to continue the landscapes, but try to capture the fleeting colors of spring; the haze of pink blossoms and green leaves that washes up the hills, the blooming trees and shrubs that color and scent the day. There's a lot to see, but it is going very fast!

And a happy April Fool to you all!