Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Spending time with Ianto and other good friends in the new-grown grass makes me feel good.
As I wander around checking out the new growth and spongy earth, the promise of new plans and whatever surprises appear is better than the grey distance and forced humor of any winter, no matter how unseasonably uncold it might be.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Spring is tomorrow by the calendar, but we've got to get some trees cleared while we have the energy and temperatures on our side.
The kids have cleared about an acre around the cabin in the past couple of weeks, and we ought to have at least three times that done before the summer comes around with wildfire season and the worries associated. We'll do what we can, and it'll all go down on forest service labor sheets to account for efforts against the threats of wildfire. We're an odd society of mistakes and remediations...
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Whether or not the weather shows its nice side or not, this time of year is one of experimentation with short-sleeves and walks outside without boots or coats. The days go by fast and the cycles are familiar to those who watch or care at least a little, but it feels good to get caught up in the hope of spring on the edge of renewal.
This March Sun, a Steady Flame
Shedding a light on water,
having seen the mind of was
before this recombinant storm-
our footsteps open a gateway to false offerings
and a chorus of thick smoke and coffee.
This March sun seems a steady flame
from inside our concrete pipe opening to the
parched Sevier Sea.
We have all seen fortunate coyotes spring across the highway,
as the weight of life, like
courage dampens, somehow forgotten,
is born straightforward like shadows from feet-
as when this stone was not yet stone
and the moon was yet nodding molten
in the earth’s sweltering, orange sky.
But now, through some imagination,
faith flies high on the ridgelines, with frost and
Milky-white, shot through with pale blue-
And in this valley, rusting tin roofs over
mossy-green wooden walls.
This morning’s light came through all clear;
as the prospect of new, green leaves
as through a canon, toward April.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
It hasn't happened enough this year, so when it snows in March as it did the other day, I'll preclude all traditions of griping about the length and breadth of Winter as it usually proceeds way past its welcome in Sanpete and celebrate this bounty.
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