Dawn had hinted at a ray of sunshine yesterday, and the day did not disappoint. With each passing hour, the temperature climbed, until by late afternoon, it was approaching the mid-fifties F. The creek was in full melt and had come alive. We had, too, as the January thaw is well underway.
We spent the morning pruning plum trees, and then took a walk to see what we could hear: the shushing of water down in the valley. On the way, we passed a vibrant green, moss-covered pile of logs--more like giant sponges--that only a week before had been covered with 18 inches of snow.
The ground is soggy. It gives with each step. The cows sink in at least four inches. Yet, every puddling footprint, regardless of species, promises replenishment of needed water below the surface. Muddy and squidgy it may be, but gradually, the water will soak in to sustain our gardens and hayfields this coming season and continue building the water table to what might even be above normal this year.
Reaching the creek, the musical burbling and plunking of the water, coursing through the lichen-covered rocks was such a delight!
There's something about moving water that stirs the soul. Simple, yet magical, beauty.
Oh, and by the way...I miss John Denver, don't you?