It seems all I have been posting about is the emergence of spring. And though our daily lives are filled with magnificence, nothing can really compare to the magnificence of spring in the mountains. The beauty of spring is undoubtedly far greater elsewhere, but the emotional drama of spring here in the Rockies brings us humans to our knees, yielding to the whimsy of Mother Nature like no other time of year. I have been absent here a while, as we have navigated the wrath of Old Man Winter, right into May. Finally, it appears that Princess Spring is going to kick some Old Man Winter … (Really, these times do warrant suggestion of such crude language.)
We enjoyed a quiet morning at Our Own Best Secret Place. The water that was but a tiny trickle when we discovered this spot late last summer, has an audible rush to it. It remains, however, the most perfect place for small feet. There is no threat of being carried away by the water, yet the lure of the stuff of life pulls our souls downstream, making for the perfect meander — no stagnation, but a wander that is just slow enough to cause one to pause between steps and appreciate the small, still bits of our world.
The boys spent the day chasing and studying water striders. Brave souls those aquatic insects. The water must be a perfect 33 degrees, for it was snow only hours earlier.
Little Berg is seeing the world form our perspective now, in my back and looking out to the world instead of in at his mama. I think this is one of the greatest milestones of the first year — equally appreciated by both of us. He is a quiet passenger, lapsing from appreciative awe of his world to cat naps. An ideal existence, don’t you think?
Dave and I enjoyed conversation about dreams and realities and I flitted about amongst the flora, capturing a few glimpses of the ever emerging flowers. I spotted four, new-this-season flowers, including wild strawberries, and we all admired the Pasque flowers, which are now showy clusters! I am declaring that in my next life, I would like to come back as some sort of woodland sprite that lives in a home carpeted in moss. I love the vibrant green of moss from afar, the magnificence of its miniscule forms up close, and the impossibility of its softness when stroked by gentle fingertips.
We also heard the loud (even obnoxious) chatter of the Clark’s nutcrackers and the whirrrrrrr of the first-this-season hummingbird! But, the grandest show of spring thus far has undoubtedly been the emergence of this fellow. He is healthy and young, but, sadly, he isn’t shy of his bipedal mammalian cousins. The whole neighborhood will be making efforts to clean up our yards — sorry birds, no more free food for you; composting will come to an abrupt halt; and, we’ll all be prepared this evening, and the next, with rocks and loud noise makers. If this young bear doesn’t make a quick retreat, he may have to be assisted in relocating elsewhere. Think timid thoughts for this furry beast. His bravery is out-of-place.
And last, because the littlest people do change so quickly, a little of the Berg-man for those that follow us from afar.
Dave’s got a new playing buddy.
We call him the Prince of Perpetual Astonishment.
He is also known as one incredibly happy baby.