East
On evening’s walk, the path is thick with dripping honeysuckle. It has just rained and my lungs are bellows for damp fragrance, in and out, in and out. Leaves brush close, layers of light and dark shadow green rise up from foot level to treetops. What was flat landscape in winter is now dimensional…moving shaded shapes where small insects hide. Hard berries will be soft and warm soon, ripening on thorny branches.
West
It is an experience of sweet longing and vast space. Wild iris bloom in clumps near a rushing stream. The horse steps into the water and goes knee deep into the wild current. There is a mucking mud sound as a hoof pulls up onto solid ground. What cannot be contained is green grass pasture stretching low and wide to the mountains. Here, there are few boundaries, few fences, and prairie range is filled with soft air.
Always present is the keeping blue sky.
