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Appalachian Spring
The author records her observations of the changes brought by the coming of spring to the woods and fields of Appalachia, supplementing her own insights with the research of natural scientists
- GenresNonfiction
208 pages, Hardcover
First published March 14, 1991
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About the author
Marcia Bonta
11 books12 followersMarcia Bonta is a freelance nature writer who lives in the mountains of Central Pennsylvania.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
March 20, 2024
An Appalachian springtime is a glorious, inspiring, slow-motion miracle, as I know from having lived for seven years in an Appalachian county of Pennsylvania. Winter retreats with reluctance, with snow and ice storms sometimes lasting well into April; but just when it seems that the long-suffering living things of the region can take no more, winter pulls back its icy hand, and a profusion of live and growing things fills the landscape. Suddenly, the world is amazingly, improbably, wonderfully green.
Nature writer Marcia Bonta knows the specifics of an Appalachian spring better than most; she and her family have lived for years atop a mountain close to Tyrone, Pennsylvania. Drivers racing along Interstate 99 between Altoona and State College might not understand the beautiful and complex ecosystems of the wilderness region they are hurrying through; but Bonta knows the wilderness thoroughly, and in her 1991 book Appalachian Spring, she invites us to walk with her along her forest paths and share her appreciation of the wonders of springtime on an Appalachian mountain.
The book is arranged chronologically, like a field diary; after a preliminary chapter that is called “Prelude,” and deals with winter’s end, Bonta gives us her day-by-day observations and reflections of her mountaintop, starting on March 1 and ending on June 21, “near 11:57 P.M. when summer officially arrived” (p. 175). As Appalachian Spring is also the title of a 1944 orchestral suite by Aaron Copland, it is appropriate that the “Prelude” chapter is followed by comparably musical-sounding chapters: “Overture” for March, “Andante” for April, “Crescendo” for May, and “Climax” for June.
Bonta displays enthusiasm for all that she observes throughout her Appalachian spring, as when she observes the mating of wood frogs at a pond on her mountain on March 27 and states that “Nothing else in nature is quite so wonderful to me as watching the courtship of wood frogs on a brisk March day” (p. 50). Yet some of the most powerful passages of Appalachian Spring are those in which Bonta observes the effects on her mountain top of, and critiques the unthinking behavior of the culture and society that surround the mountain – as when, on May 4, she laments the decline in the mountain’s whip-poor-will population and remarks sadly that “Despite Rachel Carson’s landmark book Silent Spring, we continue to use poisons with unknown side effects on our farmlands, with devastating consequences for insect-eating birds” (p. 101).
Bonta and her family have chosen a Thoreauvian way of life that certainly, in the context of modern American life, constitutes a road less traveled. This theme comes forth late in the book, when Bonta describes a June 6th visit from a friend who came up the mountain, went birding with Bonta, saw two birds new to her observation (a pileated woodpecker and a field sparrow), and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. But the friend, “a gregarious person who likes to be going and doing most of the time” (p. 150), seems to have felt obligated to offer her own commentary on the life choices the Bontas have made:
“Just before she left, late in the morning, she took a final look around and asked hesitantly, ‘Don’t you ever get tired of this place?’ She meant, I think, that she would be lonely despite the obvious abundance of wildlife here. Most people do need the stimulus of human society, and by her comments my friend made me realize how different I must seem to others, even to those who appreciate the outdoors. But most people do not have the inner resources to live an isolated life – as I do by choice.” (p. 150)
Recently, as I was driving the interstate through a major city that shall remain nameless, the lighted-board messages were helpfully informing motorists that the usual spring and summertime air-quality and smog and ozone alerts would be announced in the customary manner. I think of the life that most of us lead, and I think of the life that the Bontas lead, and I find myself feeling that they know something we don’t.
Looking at what I have written so far, I find myself reflecting that you, friend reader, may not be absolutely sure what a wood frog or a whip-poor-will or a pileated woodpecker or a field sparrow looks like. If such is indeed the case for you, then this is what I would do. Take your cell phone – yes, that cell phone that is in your pocket or purse, or sitting on the table right next to you – and go to Safari, or whatever the Internet function is on your phone. Then, every time Bonta mentions a life form that is unfamiliar, look it up – each mammal, bird, reptile, or amphibian; each insect, arachnid, or other invertebrate; each tree, flower, weed, bush, or other form of plant life.
Yes, it will take longer to read the book that way, but you will get much more out of the book that way. Each of the living things that Bonta pays tribute to in Appalachian Spring is beautiful in its own way; and it seems a shame not to take the time to get to know each one, and to appreciate the contribution that each makes to the living symphony that is springtime in the Appalachian wilderness. And, as Bonta points out in one part of the book, how many spring seasons can any one of us count on enjoying?
Appalachian Spring ended up being the first book in a sort of Appalachian tetralogy by Bonta that also includes Appalachian Autumn (1994), Appalachian Summer (1999), and Appalachian Winter (2005). Each one follows the same field-diary structure as Appalachian Spring, and all lead to an enhanced appreciation of the beauties of an oft-overlooked part of North America’s wilderness. Whenever I read one of Bonta’s books, I find myself wanting to get away from cities and suburbs, to spend some quiet time in the nearest wilderness. Perhaps Appalachian Spring will have the same effect on you.
Nature writer Marcia Bonta knows the specifics of an Appalachian spring better than most; she and her family have lived for years atop a mountain close to Tyrone, Pennsylvania. Drivers racing along Interstate 99 between Altoona and State College might not understand the beautiful and complex ecosystems of the wilderness region they are hurrying through; but Bonta knows the wilderness thoroughly, and in her 1991 book Appalachian Spring, she invites us to walk with her along her forest paths and share her appreciation of the wonders of springtime on an Appalachian mountain.
The book is arranged chronologically, like a field diary; after a preliminary chapter that is called “Prelude,” and deals with winter’s end, Bonta gives us her day-by-day observations and reflections of her mountaintop, starting on March 1 and ending on June 21, “near 11:57 P.M. when summer officially arrived” (p. 175). As Appalachian Spring is also the title of a 1944 orchestral suite by Aaron Copland, it is appropriate that the “Prelude” chapter is followed by comparably musical-sounding chapters: “Overture” for March, “Andante” for April, “Crescendo” for May, and “Climax” for June.
Bonta displays enthusiasm for all that she observes throughout her Appalachian spring, as when she observes the mating of wood frogs at a pond on her mountain on March 27 and states that “Nothing else in nature is quite so wonderful to me as watching the courtship of wood frogs on a brisk March day” (p. 50). Yet some of the most powerful passages of Appalachian Spring are those in which Bonta observes the effects on her mountain top of, and critiques the unthinking behavior of the culture and society that surround the mountain – as when, on May 4, she laments the decline in the mountain’s whip-poor-will population and remarks sadly that “Despite Rachel Carson’s landmark book Silent Spring, we continue to use poisons with unknown side effects on our farmlands, with devastating consequences for insect-eating birds” (p. 101).
Bonta and her family have chosen a Thoreauvian way of life that certainly, in the context of modern American life, constitutes a road less traveled. This theme comes forth late in the book, when Bonta describes a June 6th visit from a friend who came up the mountain, went birding with Bonta, saw two birds new to her observation (a pileated woodpecker and a field sparrow), and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. But the friend, “a gregarious person who likes to be going and doing most of the time” (p. 150), seems to have felt obligated to offer her own commentary on the life choices the Bontas have made:
“Just before she left, late in the morning, she took a final look around and asked hesitantly, ‘Don’t you ever get tired of this place?’ She meant, I think, that she would be lonely despite the obvious abundance of wildlife here. Most people do need the stimulus of human society, and by her comments my friend made me realize how different I must seem to others, even to those who appreciate the outdoors. But most people do not have the inner resources to live an isolated life – as I do by choice.” (p. 150)
Recently, as I was driving the interstate through a major city that shall remain nameless, the lighted-board messages were helpfully informing motorists that the usual spring and summertime air-quality and smog and ozone alerts would be announced in the customary manner. I think of the life that most of us lead, and I think of the life that the Bontas lead, and I find myself feeling that they know something we don’t.
Looking at what I have written so far, I find myself reflecting that you, friend reader, may not be absolutely sure what a wood frog or a whip-poor-will or a pileated woodpecker or a field sparrow looks like. If such is indeed the case for you, then this is what I would do. Take your cell phone – yes, that cell phone that is in your pocket or purse, or sitting on the table right next to you – and go to Safari, or whatever the Internet function is on your phone. Then, every time Bonta mentions a life form that is unfamiliar, look it up – each mammal, bird, reptile, or amphibian; each insect, arachnid, or other invertebrate; each tree, flower, weed, bush, or other form of plant life.
Yes, it will take longer to read the book that way, but you will get much more out of the book that way. Each of the living things that Bonta pays tribute to in Appalachian Spring is beautiful in its own way; and it seems a shame not to take the time to get to know each one, and to appreciate the contribution that each makes to the living symphony that is springtime in the Appalachian wilderness. And, as Bonta points out in one part of the book, how many spring seasons can any one of us count on enjoying?
Appalachian Spring ended up being the first book in a sort of Appalachian tetralogy by Bonta that also includes Appalachian Autumn (1994), Appalachian Summer (1999), and Appalachian Winter (2005). Each one follows the same field-diary structure as Appalachian Spring, and all lead to an enhanced appreciation of the beauties of an oft-overlooked part of North America’s wilderness. Whenever I read one of Bonta’s books, I find myself wanting to get away from cities and suburbs, to spend some quiet time in the nearest wilderness. Perhaps Appalachian Spring will have the same effect on you.
May 25, 2017
Appalachian spring by Bonta_ Marcia
The family bought a spot on the mountain and they just had nature around them. Every person has a special thing they follow.
Actually starts in Jan/Feb with mating of squirrels and it goes on from there til it's a daily journal of the natural world til the end of June.
Besides animals seen and what activities they are doing, the sounds there are also sightings of birds, insects, and all kinds of flowers and trees budding.
Loved hearing of the lake ride while looking at the star constellations.
So many facts about the lives of the animals and birds.
I received this book from National Library Service for my BARD (Braille Audio Reading Device).
The family bought a spot on the mountain and they just had nature around them. Every person has a special thing they follow.
Actually starts in Jan/Feb with mating of squirrels and it goes on from there til it's a daily journal of the natural world til the end of June.
Besides animals seen and what activities they are doing, the sounds there are also sightings of birds, insects, and all kinds of flowers and trees budding.
Loved hearing of the lake ride while looking at the star constellations.
So many facts about the lives of the animals and birds.
I received this book from National Library Service for my BARD (Braille Audio Reading Device).
April 6, 2018
I love all four seasons of Marcia Bonta's books - she's a wonderful naturalist and lives only about 150 miles from me. So I identify with her daily walks.
April 30, 2023
I grew up immersed in nature and yet still learned so much from this book! It helps that her region is local to me. There really is nothing like an Appalachian Spring.
March 16, 2025
Every aspect of this memoir was wonderful- with the exception of the very last entry. Rather suddenly, Bonta began speaking about humanity's encroachment upon her haven in the mountains. For the majority of the book, not a word was whispered about other people, but I do daresay it spoiled the ending.
Edited to add in 2025… Older and wiser, am I. Marcia is right at the end of the book.
Edited to add in 2025… Older and wiser, am I. Marcia is right at the end of the book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews