Still will I harvest beauty where it grows:

In coloured fungus and the spotted fog

Surprised on foods forgotten; in ditch and bog

Filmed brilliant with irregular rainbows

Of rust and oil, where half a city throws

Its empty tins; and in some spongy log

Whence headlong leaps the oozy emerald frog ...

And a black pupil in the green scum shows.

Her the inhabiter of divers places

Surmising at all doors, I push them all.

Oh, you that fearful of a creaking hinge

Turn back forevermore with craven faces,

I tell you Beauty bears an ultra fringe

Unguessed of you upon her gossamer shawl!

Edna St. Vincent Millay

A ditch, some weeds, melting ice -- beautiful!

I did my first stewardship chore of the season today, picking up a lot of litter and empty bottles where half the city had thrown them. It's party central around the wetland. The beer bottles I attribute to wayward yahoos, but I can only shake my head at the "health-conscious" people who leave their water bottles and granola bar wrappers all over.

I saw some garlic mustard here and there but so far it doesn't seem like a lot; I'll tackle it when things warm up and thaw a bit more. I did see a couple of robins today. They looked cold and unhappy. Hang in there, guys.