cinquefoil 2


cinquefoil 3


Spring winds like ocean waves roar

so far we are from the open sea

releasing brown waters of wild creeks

bringing Sedona sands in sepia skies

And leaving pink snow behind


lost trail creek


A silent red tail over the treetops camouflaged in fat flakes of falling snow.

Had I not been looking, I would not know he was there. Back upon our mountain.  I am waiting to hear his screech, the haunting cry that carries far against still frozen cliffs held back from the sun.

Snow drips from the red roof like rain.

Increasing exposure of naked earth.  Transformation from a white and grey world to one that is shades of brown.  Then all is covered again.

We are here while the bear hibernates still and elk remain in lower ground.


spring ground


Stirred up in spring winds depositing pieces from some faraway land long exposed to the elements.

And the questions of what will be, will happen and what will tomorrow bring

Are answered with maybe, possibly, who knows, and we’ll see…

And what I hear in the wind is this:

What do I have to lose?

And all I can think to reply

Is a winter’s coat.


gunnar at snowmachine point


Birthday week winds down. All my boys, well most of them, celebrated in seven days.  Gunnar, Bob, Crow, Tresjur and finally Forrest.  Time to get back to work.

We had it all planned. Finally, fencing.  My favorite spring chore, would you believe?  Not a popular preference as seen from most fences around these parts found in various stages of disrepair.  But I love it.  How could I not?  Out there with my boys, the mountain, sun and soft spring dirt.

Only it’s not dry. It’s still frozen.  Barely warm enough to hold a fence stretcher and pliers.  And another storm blows in. So this week I don’t think we’ll be working on fences just yet.




Working class.  Leisure being a choice we earn, not a life we are given.  Do we define ourselves according to our work, what we do, our “job” and how many hours we work?  These are things I’m reconsidering from a set of rules I once was taught.  I don’t know the answers, though see they are starting to change.

This is no poor-me syndrome. Don’t you see how lucky we are? You and me both, my friend. We have so much.  Maybe too much.

Life is at first a gift, and then it is ours. We work for it.  And thus we can create it to be whatever we dream.

A dear friend among the leisure class writes of his life based on “ease, health, happiness, and comfort.”

Now health and happiness hold great value, but ease and comfort?  Why?

Our bounty is earned, our rewards respected, and the possibilities are endless.  We are not bound by idle time and the need to be pleased and the fear of losing comfort.

A woman once shared a story of the brass ring she missed.  I wonder – was there only one?

In my ability to quickly stir up rage within me (for better and for worse) I’d  say scrap the tears, turn around and forge a new ring.

Don’t you see these opportunities presented with every challenge?

In theory.  For I am certain I did not and do not always when I live through them, but it sure sounds good to say.


spring snow


The last word(s):

Much gratitude to these website than mentioned The Color of the Wild this week.  I so appreciate the support and encouragement!  Thank you:

Indies Unlimited

Bestseller Bound


And… I’m very excited about this… I’ll be at the Tattered Cover in Denver in June as part of their Rocky Mountain Land Series.  If you’re from or in the Denver area, please do stop in and join us.  Time, date and location to be announced shortly.

Finally, I wanted to share this link with you.  I posted it on Facebook but don’t believe I’ve put it here, and it’s worth sharing.  It’s important.  This should be required reading for anyone who cares about Colorado and our mountains:

2013 Report on the Health of Colorado’s Forests


aspen in spring snow