Fickle spring

Just last week I was feeling spring in the air. All the buds on the cottonwoods are swelling and oozing golden resin. I harvested a pint of buds from a willing tree and some of the freshly fallen branchlets on the ground and poured warm olive oil over them to make a lovely infused poplar bud oil for sore muscles, burns or aromatic chest rubs. Plants are poking little leaves up through the leaves and old growth of last year.

Yesterday it was near 70 degrees and we went hiking in the foothills. No new growth on the plants up there yet, but a much needed respite and foray into the more wild lands. I could feel that energy filling me up as I walked. I felt like an empty water vessel and the energy of the trees, the rocks, the sun pouring into me, renewing, replenishing that which winter and too much time inside working has depleted.


But alas, spring is a tease, after a beautiful breezy sun filled day, the Rocky Peaks are again under snow. We have about an inch on the ground (not too much) but it's below freezing temperatures again. I've been told that March is the snowiest month in the Front Range area. But I can feel spring just around the bend. My energy levels are changing, my dietary choices are different, and I'm ready for MOVEMENT and CHANGE.

A new home and a new life awaits for creation this summer, and I'm anxious to get started. But until then I have a thesis to research and write, clients to see and spring to see flower.