Our weather has been divine this month. So divine, in fact, that I checked to ensure that we have at least normal snow pack because an early spring can lead to summer forest fires and a water-starved fall.
I saw my first mountain bluebird last week, and the songbirds are back in force. Magpies, large black-and-white birds with an attitude, slice through the air. They carry twigs to rebuild nests, and we try to discourage them from nesting near the house because they are so aggressively territorial that they dive bomb humans!
A rabbit lives under the stone bench halfway up the ridge. Soon, bobbling baby bunnies will dot the meadow. Their mother will try to protect them from the eagles and foxes that now patrol for food.
I love the seasons, something you know if you have followed this blog or my work for long. Growing up in a place that had two—a long summer and a mild winter—makes me appreciate the extremes of all four. I watch for the nuanced changes like the Red Tail hawks, soaring on currents above the valley my office overlooks, search for field mice.
I can’t wait for the warm sun on my back on a late August afternoon, tossing dry flies at hungry trout. Fish on, baby!
Each of these changes, each of these animals are God’s general revelation of Himself: His glory and design, His love for us, His beauty and greatness.
Happy Easter. He is risen! Hallelujah!