The Earth Softens

Desperate for something promising in a world that now seems to offer only obstructions and complications, I did my usual walk this week around Meeker Park looking intently for new signs of life. I found it first in the barely discernible new shoots of green sage (below), one of our hardiest plants in this harsh climate. I wanted to inhale its familiar pungent smell, get as close to the earth as possible, so I tore off a small bit of these plants, which hug the ground, staying low in these still cold nights.

Last week, on the road leading to the pond, I had to detour up the hill to avoid the deep snow, slush and mud on the dirt road. But this week most of it had melted and dried, and the ground has become soft and yielding, releasing some bounce in my own step, some joy at this landscape springing back to life.

The aspens are starting to flower, producing catkins—soft furry seeds (softer than my cat’s fur) that will disperse in a few months, sending a green pollen across the valley. And the willow bushes (below) seem more intensely red and yellow. Is it just the spring light or my new vision?

Best of all, the pond is starting to thaw, just an opening at either end, but enough to rigorously spill water across the road, through the dense aspen grove and down into the valley bottom where it will blend with Cabin Creek flowing northeast to merge with the St. Vrain, which makes it way through the canyon before joining with the South Platte and eventually the Mississippi River.

In this time of new restrictions on traveling, I come up to the cabin just for the day. On the drive up, the St. Vrain Canyon is almost empty of cars, and on the roads around Meeker Park I see few cars and no other people, just a huge sky held together by these mountains. When I think of all the people packed into cities, their lives threatened by this virus, I feel grateful for all this emptiness, but the gratitude is combined with sorrow and fear for all of us, mixed like the creeks that blend together almost effortlessly and like last year’s dead grasses lying together with the tender new shoots.

Comments

[Jennifer Woodhull]

Thanks so much for going up to the cabin for all of us, Kathy. It's wonderful to have a glimpse of the natural world beyond the restrictions confining us city-dwellers to our urban spaces.

[Julene Bair]

Your writing and pictures are breathtaking,
Kathy. That water! Those willows! Love your images of the soil becoming springy as winter gives way to spring and of the tender shoots among last year's grasses. Beauty abounds and brings hope regardless of what we're going through. I'm grateful to you for so adroitly pointing this out.

[Carol Christenson]

Thanks so much for your beautiful writing and photo reminders that nature goes on all around us all the time. It is a great comfort in these challenging times.

[Brent Zeinert]

I hear you. Great photo of the aspens and willow!