This morning is one of those beautiful bits of early Spring that happen in Wyoming where dawn comes dim and rainy with a fresh clean washed watercolour come to life on the other side of the window. It is not pouring rain or even very much raining at all now, just a damp cool day over the wet ground left behind from the night. There is enough breeze to make a brisk walk comfortable yet not whip a hat off or cut straight through a jacket. It is perfect and fleeting and filled with memories of so many mornings I have taken for granted, rarely savouring the treasure that it really is and should always be. This is the sort of morning that in the past I would take off for the hill in the back pasture and explore the ancient rusted equipment on the crest, the new growth of grass and horsetail and sage that covers the ground in a seemingly magically appearing green that was not there a few days ago. I would work my way down to the creek to check out the new cattail growth, resurrection of green shoots in the husks left from last Autumn. I have taken that walk so many times that I nearly don’t miss being unable to do it now.

It is only early May and snow is expected still, but happily it will be the sort of snow that comes late and melts quickly in the growing strength of the sun. That sun will break out shortly I hope, warming the day back to the heat of anticipated Summer.