Summer

I am daring to believe that summer has actually arrived. After inches and inches of snow just last week, we have been granted a string of sunny days. Even the aspen leaves brave the season and are slowly uncurling their tightly sealed buds to reveal baby green.

The little hummers have arrived. They are chirping and whirring about the feeder as if they owned the place; lest we forget that we have indeed invaded their summer vacation homes.

The river has swollen up, rushing and tumbling through its bed, pushing it's limits. It carries away the melted memories of snowy peaks and pours itself into the life of our valley.

And, oh the sunshine. Blue skies arch over us, and you can almost taste the warmth. Three months to soak up this shimmer, breathe in the smell of warm earth, feel the sweet, new green. Three months to thaw and stir and stretch out and grow.

Three months to forget the hard frozen season of pushing roots deeper and being laid bare. Three months to relish in promise and water and fresh and new.