Dense spruce trees at the edges of our lawn protect squirrels and birds. Cardinals shelter in them during winter as the tightly packed branches thick with needles keep out the wind. Growing in the open, the lower branches of these trees touch the ground, creating a prickly barrier for larger creatures like our dog and the neighbourhood fox. Squirrels scamper to safety threading their way between branches, disappearing from view. The trees are dark green and shadowed, hiding more than they reveal.

Except at this point in spring. The core of the tree is still hidden, but at the tip of every branch, a bit of lacy bright green is flowering. Little brown buds waited until enough warmth and sun arrived. They burst into a colour that is only seen at this point of spring. The small frilly sprays stand out against the black-green of the mature needles. Soon, as the new needles grow, the brightness will fade.

Although this brilliant green stands out, it is only seen for a moment in spring. It came to the maple trees a week or so ago as their buds expanded. This green lined the branches like a misty haze. Then, those leaves took on a touch of red and a deeper green as they expanded. The full canopy now makes the sky a patchwork of blue.

On the slower ash trees, there are lacy flowerets. On tiny stems, the narrow multiple leaves shine with this early spring green. It will take more warmth before they expand to line the trees' branches with the rich green of summer. For now, the bright sky behind highlights the delicate grace of the new, living leaves.

Even this early, when the leaf bunches are small as the head of a daisy, they reveal the health of the ash. Every branch of the oldest tree on our land is covered with this lacy green. A tree in front has branches high up that are barren. I study each ash to check the progress of the emerald ash borer infection.

The forester who took down the tree that leaned toward the house with huge dead branches hanging over the driveway taught me how to notice the presence of the insect with patches of damage to the bark. These white marks are present in quite a few. But it is the leafing out of the tree in spring that confirms how healthy the ash still is.

For now, the tree that stands in the middle of our backyard seems fine. I dream that, like the few majestic old elms that stand alone across our region, perhaps it is immune. But my hope is fragile. For years, I watched the seeds of the old elm on our farm sprout into young trees that grew into tall young trees, but eventually all succumbed to dutch elm disease. Whatever kept the one elm healthy was not passed on.

Back in today's garden, the same fresh green of spring is starting to show. Lettuce sprouted inside will this week be planted in pots in the sun. It still has that tender, bright yellow-green colour, but soon will strengthen to a deeper green. This I want to happen so that I can add it to my salads, but I will miss this colour.

There was a hint of this colour in the first pea shoots coming from the soil, but they are already slightly darker. I watch for this colour where I planted morning glory and sweet peas. I am watching for the spinach and beets too, but they never have that bright green. Their deeper shades speak of the nutrients they will provide.

Spring graces us with the bright yellow of daffodils, the white of snowdrops, the purple of muscari, the rainbow of tulips. The sun-bright yellow of forsythia is a sure sign of nature waking up from winter's rest. But still, this delicate green that we only see at the beginning of spring growth speaks of freshness and gentle but strong new life.

Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway Nation