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March 5 -20

In this invigorating episode, "Wintering Insects Awake," Alexis and Kit are swept away by March winds to the mountains and the seaside as they traverse this season of awakenings. Our co-hosts reflect on a year of Season by Season, while looking forward to the seasons still to come. In Hiro's Corner, a trio of fragrant plants are on the menu: ninniku, nira, and nobiru.

Listen and subscribe on Apple and Spotify.

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Wintering Insects Awake Spotify Companion Playlist

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Poems Featured in this Episode

To March by Emily Dickinson

Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat —
You must have walked —
How out of breath you are!

Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the birds’;
The maples never knew
That you were coming, — I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me —
And all those hills
You left for me to hue;
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.
Who knocks? That April!
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
That blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame.

***

March Poem by William Cullent Bryant 

The stormy March is come at last,
With wind, and cloud, and changing skies,
I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valley flies.

Ah, passing few are they who speak,
Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;
Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,
Thou art a welcome month to me.

For thou, to northern lands, again
The glad and glorious sun dost bring,
And thou hast joined the gentle train
And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.

And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,
When the changed winds are soft and warm,
And heaven puts on the blue of May.

***

The Mountains in March by Ada A. Mosher

Hark, how in impotent rage old Euroclydon
Scourges the bare-shouldered mountains to-night!
While their low laughter doth answer to mock the one
Wielding the lash that the lash is so light.
Laugh they as laughed in his slumber old Ymir,
When the great Norse giant's ponderous mace
Smote his bare forehead, low muttered the dreamer,
"Breezes must blow, I feel leaves on my face."
So these grim giants that, hoary and battle-proof,
Guard this old pass, spurn Euroclydon's guage;
Laugh him to scorn while his anger doth but behoof
Sport for these warriors who mock at his rage.
Loose are his storm-steeds; the snap of his lariat
Maddens to fury the pulse of their speed;
Down the deep gorges on thunders his chariot
Hot in pursuit of each mane-tossing steed.

***

Quarreling water flows down
The laughing mountains

— Katsuo Sekimori

***

The sound of wings flapping
As they return to the sky
Laughing mountain

— Akira Horimai

***

The old shoji screens
Open to let in the light
On the day the mountain laughs

— Nojimia Shijin

***

Unveiled by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse

To-day the hills put off their haze
And stand so green and clear
That every peak remote and strange
Is intimate and near.
I can make out the very trees
That mass upon their sides,
And look deep into the white cloud
That swift above them rides.
But, oh, I would not have them stand
Unveiled by blowing air;
Give me the blue, blue mists again
That make them far and fair!

***

Through clouds of spring mud
The mountain road

— Nishijima Bakunan

***

The sun sets
And the puddles of spring mud
Turn gold

— Ryōtei Fukuda

***

Splashing
in the spring mud
You forget your age
— Kimiko Kato

***

Above ground and below ground
the air is ready 
for insects to stir.

— Ishii Rogetsu

***

The insects are astir
in the garden
as I'm sweeping

— Shimada Shige

***

wake up! wake up!
and become my friend
you sleeping butterfly 

— Basho

***

the dandelion
sometimes wakes the butterfly 
from its dream

— Chiyo-jo

***

in my garden
the flowering dandelions
have a feeling for poetry . . .

— Masaoka Shiki

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First Dandelion by Walt Whitman

Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close emerging,
As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,
Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass—innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,
The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face.

***

Excerpt from "Queen Mab," by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Though storms may break the primrose on its stalk,
Though frosts may blight the freshness of its bloom,
Yet Spring’s awakening breath will woo the earth,
To feed with kindliest dews its favourite flower,
That blooms in mossy banks and darksome glens,
Lighting the greenwood with its sunny smile.

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everything I pick up
is alive -- 
ebb-tide

— Chiyo-jo

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firefly squid ...
the Sea of Japan finally shows
waves of springtime

— Takaki Susu no Ie

***

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

— Emily Dickinson

***

The Rainbow by Walter de la Mare

I saw the lovely arch
Of Rainbow span the sky,
The gold sun burning
As the rain swept by.

In bright-ringed solitude
The showery foliage shone
One lovely moment,
And the Bow was gone.

***

The Rainbow (excerpt) by Felicia Hemans

E'en now full many a blossom's bel