Nothing enunciates or brings to life change more than moving from season to season; especially from winter to spring. Here in the grasslands winter has not given up its frigid embrace quite yet. There are signs though: birds are returning, seeds are quietly germinating underground and roots are awakening, calves are being born in the dark of night in cold pastures, the weather moves from sun, to sleet to hail and back again, constantly keeping us on our toes. We must be careful not to expect the joyous homecoming of warmth and new growth just yet.
Nature cleaves to her own schedule, not ours. The feral, Indian horses of Schiedam Flats have moved down from the hills, looking for the signs of forage on the grasslands. Last year there were many new foals and old friends who spent many summer days entertaining the observers who stopped their cars to visit. It will be exciting to see what this spring brings.
Just as nature moves at her own pace, so must we. Contemplating shedding my woolly winter coat and opening up to germinating in the warmth of the sun. Changes happens with every breath.