An explosion of light over the hill this morning--it's been a long time, and we eagerly seek out small signs of spring. In Europe, people would be taking chairs outside, to lean back against a southern wall and just sit in the sun for a while.
We still have a thin frosting of snow here and there: under the cedar trees, in the shadow of the bluff behind Billy Johnson's house, and tiny patches on the north side of every cow patty, a festive polkadot pattern across the pasture.
So--a bit of sun, and I am instantly looking forward to ripe tomatoes and zucchini. Yes, I know they are still months away, but a person can dream, can't she?