• Emily

Spring at Last

Updated: Mar 24, 2021

the first grasses

In the middle of January, the dull grey days of winter gave way to sunshine and warmth with unexpected rapidity. One Sunday afternoon, we hiked the bluebird trail and found that the first green shoots were pressing their way through the stiff mud. Already, the leaves of the Salt-and-Pepper Lomatiums began to emerge. Mosses brightened the rocks. It had been a brief winter with very little snow, and we were concerned about moisture for the coming year, even as we celebrated the speedy arrival of spring. We basked in the gentle afternoon sunshine that illuminated every feature of the rocky slope. Each blade of the early grasses was caught in its light, a radiant proclamation of the arriving spring.

moss growing under the rock

early plants sprout between rocks

sunshine on the first grasses

We didn’t know then that within two weeks we would be buried in snow—sweeping, billowing, drifting snow—that would hide fence lines completely and barricade gates and pathways. The early spring was forgotten under layer upon layer of frigid whiteness. As we struggled through the two months that followed, our wholehearted focus was pushing through daily tasks of care for the animals and homestead. We hung on to the memory of that warm afternoon, trusting that somewhere beneath the ice, the mosses were still waiting for their second chance at sunshine.

snow mounds on the bluffs

Spring has finally come to the homestead now. The wildflowers are joining in joyful chorus with the early plants on the highland. Everywhere we turn, we see sure signs that winter won’t be returning until the summer sun and fall harvest have passed. Every spring is a delight, but this one is sweeter than most for the waiting.

early spring sunshine

Grass Widow in the rocks


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