Early March

Despite grey forecasts the day turned blue. The lengthening days feel like a gift. Willow and I headed for the bush. The snow was soft. As soon as we were off the trail Willow sank up to her chest making it tough. I wandered off here and there to check the willows for buds, bending the juniper to test for spring. I have promised Scarlett and Copper I will show them how to make a bow and arrows this year. It was long ago my dad taught me. I’d almost forgot. Some willows have sprouted fuzzy buds. It was hard to not keep looking skyward even with ice underfoot. The ravens tossed themselves like oily rags at one another. The songbirds puffed their chests towards the sun, reenergized in the promise of spring. They will sing constantly soon. Become vibrant again looking to attract a mate. The owls will roost and hoot before light. Willow sniffed and pawed at the thawing smells. A mouse under the snow, a discarded bone, feathers lost or taken, and droppings of all the animals that shared the trail through the winter, under the stars and through the storms and cold spells. To finally examine them. Do they tell their stories to Willow? It is me who can only wonder. I am the odd man out, but where I belong, with the sun shining, my face warm, with more creatures than I can see smiling with me on a blue day before spring.


















