Raindrops are Falling

It was a gentle walk along the beginnings of the Colorado River. Dad was with us and at 70 was not up for climbing a mountain, but he was beaming from ear to ear to be in the mountains. We stopped often, looking at a small flower, commenting on the clear mountain water in the small stream that would turn into a mighty river. The clouds rolled in just as we reached a beaver pond. The mound of branches in the middle of the pond looked fresh and evidence surrounded us of this little animal's industriousness. Then it happened. Gentle drops began to fall. They left their beautiful mark on the still water and then disappeared. It was a moment I will always cherish.

Summer Rain
A summer walk along the Colorado River in Rocky Mountain National Park started out warm and sunny. A small isolated rain shower started at the same time we reached a beaver pond giving me this photographic opportunity.
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Dreaming of Spring

Like a hibernating bear, I am dreaming of spring. Twitching for it. Yearning for it. Waiting for it. But Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow which means six more weeks of winter. And for the high country of Colorado I know that my wait for green meadows and bursting flowers will not be until June. So wish me luck and happy springtime dreams.

Spring Breeze
The old and twisted cottonwoods were wearing the lacy light green of spring and standing over a field of purple wildflowers.
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Dreaming of Spring
The silhouette of a single small bird perched in the bare branches of a tree is a harbinger of spring to come.
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Horizon
The lush spring grass stretches as far as the eye can see into the horizon with a rain promising spring sky overhead.
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Spring Snow in Colorado

I usually do a Sunday Morning Gallery post and I had one prepared for today, but because many of you know I live in the foothills of northern Colorado, and may have heard of our intense spring storm I decided to post some photos. It has been a crazy few days.

It snowed all night Thursday and all the next day and through the next night too. Our landscape became surreal as the heavy wet snow clung to everything. The giant ponderosa pines, which normally can handle heavy snows, were swaying like drunken sailors with the heavy weight.

Then the snapping and popping like a rifle shot started as the tops, branches, and whole trees came crashing down around us unable to sustain the huge weight. I started to wonder when it would stop by that time and listened for house groans, but none came. Our post and beam construction held strong.

I am very happy to get this moisture after a very dry winter here in Colorado, but when it comes all at once it can be challenging. But now the road is plowed, the fire is stoked, and dinner is cooking away. All is cozy, safe and warm on a spring day on Stellers Ridge.

Road to Town

It is an unsettled spring day in Colorado. The dark cloudy sky looks as if it is about to dump rain or snow but there is no moisture in the forecast. The dusty road winds across the top of the ridge to the saddle, a low point, where the road turns down into a steep ravine. It is always this ravine that becomes impassable when the spring snows come. This year they did not come so we hope for rain instead. It makes going to town easier when the steep road is clear of ice and snow. And there are no complaints when the plow sits idle. For now we will wait and see if the rains come. These are my thoughts as I bump down the dusty road.

Sunday Morning Gallery - Song of the Flower

Many talented poets and writers have written about flowers so today I will share a favorite of mine.


Song of The Flower

I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.

At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.

The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.

As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.

I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.

I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.

But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.

- Khalil Gibran