up & down like mercury

Cheerful color in the snow. The new yarn I was existentially driven to work with a couple of days ago, has proven to be the cure I needed. It's working up beautifully and I'm feeling much better. Catching a sudden glimpse ~ you know that state where you don't name things but just suddenly see (there must be a Zen term for it) ~ it resembles a field of wheat in the sunshine ~ with wild flowers,  southern France, on a warm spring day, Van Gogh with his easel, me with my straw hat...yeah, I'm sick of winter and there are scratch marks on the walls...

Ravens and magpies are making a racket in the trees that sounds like a spring hubbub. Really. (The sky tells a different story but we won't go there). It's already bluer...

When we drove to Santa Fe yesterday I noticed the huge blocks of ice along the banks of the Rio Grande had melted and the river was running faster. Two intrepid fly fishermen stand up to their thighs in cold water ~ the trout must be running too. I so look forward to the release of the snow melt from our Sangre de Cristos and the Colorado Rockies as it rushes through our rivers. The drama, power and noise are awesome.

And now the great spring skies are here, the more dazzling because the snow is still three feet or more deep all around. But there is a lift in the air, in the spring notes of the jays and chickadees, in the stirring of sap in maples and in me.
     (May Sarton, March 1 entry: Journal of a Solitude)