It's been such a long time since I've written. These weeks of delightful movement, as the mountains shed tonnages of snow, are glorious. The melt is washing away the banks of the river: roots, alder, boulders, logs. The roiling provides such a symphony it's matched only by the sound of new leaves in the tallest cottonwoods, blowing steadily among the spruce and hemlock.
A two-thirty dawn means to try and find the spirit to stay tucked in for a few more hours. But the work of re-establishing a presence amidst the forest is huge this spring and it calls loudly and energetically. I can't resist.
This body of mine, however, is not only much older but the odd, life-long aversion to sitting, now appears to have been a response to scoliosis. Who knew?
The doctor orders dancing and bike riding in addition to my other passions of garden and trail. New shoes, (some especially fine steppers for twirling, others for pedals and bluffs), and a new bike, arrive week after next.
Also evolving is the plan to visit the Mid-west. There's a story I want to write along the way.
Love always ~