I love ee cummings' poem, "In Just", describing the moment when winter morphs into spring and the world is "mud-luscious" and "puddle-wonderful." It was "just spring" at our cabin on Saturday, May 5, 2018, as Dave and I tramped past daffodils and tiny leaves unrolling.
I caught a reflection, in our cabin window, of a leafless aspen and one white cloud in an endless blue sky.
I walked around our Pine Mountain lot, snapping photos of the tiny details that reminded me it was spring.
Even the 4-wheelers, shrouded under the house, gave promise of happy hours zipping around the mountain trail near our cabin.
As we drove home, we stopped by the rushing Weber River to enjoy the beauty of "just spring," with the trees not yet in bloom and the world limned in shades of black and brown.
Even the drive through Brown's Canyon and into Park City, was beautiful--a quintessential Western scene with sagebrush on the side, mile after mile of telephone poles, and snow-topped mountains in the distance.
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