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 |  Look around. Let Nature nurture your Soul. I record images I sense and share them here. |
| North Hills to the power lines, across to the trail going north, south past the Hs, pass the radio tower, wending south: Climbing slowly two joggers pass, their pale flesh blooming pink, a gift of a northern winter and Springtime's sun and wind. No rain upon the plains, yet the beige-grey dust is slowly greening. And lo! A rufous flying insect. A caterpillar tumbling. I stoop to take a picture of the yellowbells.  I notice the shy biscuit root; the buds of balsam root; the fingers of lupines groping. Pink rock (granite?) lies covered with grey-green lichen. I pick furry sea-green yarrow; crushed, I inhale it’s minty breath. Animal tracks and animal droppings: fresh brown balls and white-grey clumps. Bitterroot leaves cluster, waiting; anemone too. Small white-pink flowers nodding almost go unnoticed, except by me. The wind. The greening hills as seen from above.  The long walk facing the southern breeze, braving the wind to look at phlox.  On a windy day: so few dogs, so few people, and the downward slope of the path. Missoula, Montana. 2010, March 28. 175 |
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