Runoff

A few days ago in the midst of an afternoon walk, I stopped.  The hillsides were covered in snow, the road I had walked on was ice.  But a different sound was literally underlying the countryside.  It took a minute to distinguish it.  An unseen river was melting underneath my feet.  The snow was melting and running hidden downhill.  The ice I stood on was softening on the bottom and pooling, the pool then leaking into rivulets and the rivulets joining to create a mini brook racing down each draw.  Today, I walked again.  This time the snow and ice had begun to disappear and the open areas of dirt proudly chanted the musical notes of running water.  It was everywhere.  My boots had leaked.  My jeans were absorbing moisture at a rapid rate.  Each footfall either slipped in mud, splashed in water, or sank in softened snow.  Though mornings greet me with frozen ground and frosty air, afternoons celebrate themselves with warm air, sunshine, and galloping water.  The ice has begun its losing battle for control of the creek.  Ice chunks have started to sink from the few open spots.  The creek seems happy to have sunlight in its depths again.  This rocky mountain springwater is rushing off with grains of red dirt embedded in its midst; transporting soil and redepositing it some other lucky place.  Dare I say it??  The first signs of Spring are here!


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