Yesterday and this morning I took my walk looking up. The trees are just starting to bud. And the flowers are just beginning to show their colors.
The ground is littered with dried left over leaves, brittle and grayish brown, crunching under foot. Even as the grass makes an attempt to turn green, as the moss pulls on its most brilliant lime green coat of the season. The main show is taking place above ground; branches are turning colors as spring moves through them. Don’t miss the show!
“In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours.” ~Mark Twain
Within the past two hours, I have seen heavy fog, thick dark grey clouds, and a bright blue sky, that shifted to a pale whitish-blue.
A bellowing cloud of smoke passed through my house as the farmer burned off the dried grass around the creek bed. The thick heavy smoke made it a little uncomfortable to breathe. So Uriah and I headed off to the mail box and I took pictures of the blooming, Pussy Willow as Uriah disappeared to wade in the pond.
Uriah came back out of the cold pond and pulled his fat tummy across the grass, this is his way of toweling himself off…
