Spring has arrived and robins are hopping (bob-bob-bobbing) over the earth that has been exposed by the receding line of snow. While winter's toll on the grass and the contents of the flower beds is obvious, one should not be fooled into thinking there is no hope of further plant life without replanting. Nature repairs itself...and quickly. Above and below the ground, there is a rush to return to living fully in the sunlight.
Spring skies are this exact...and
un-enhanced...shade of blue. A closer examination of the large cottonwood tree standing to the side of Wes
Prieb Boulevard at the entrance to the Pool Hall reveals that it will not be too many days before the tree is in full leaf.
At the edge of the flower bed in front of Lodge 3, for the most part still covered by snow, the pointy spears of the iris push upward into the sunlight.
Knobs and bulges of rhubarb appear out of the earth at the edge of the receding line of snow. This bed of rhubarb behind the kitchen will eventually be the source of many culinary delights.
Almost as soon as a reddish bulb of rhubarb breaks through the outer layer of soil, it begins to unfurl a yellowish protuberance that will eventually become a fabulous dark green leaf with wine-red veins.
At ground level, a line of iris ascend toward the sky in full view of an ever-diminishing bank of snow that still covers the windows of the Registration Office and the Operations Office.
Pleading "I'm fragile!" and "I have been frozen!" a sign asking people to keep off the grass stands in a place that will eventually become a green and sloping expanse that will be welcoming to Holden's yard blankets and an endless number of sun worshippers, readers, and nap-takers.
Spring has arrived and robins are hopping (bob-bob-bobbing) over the earth that has been exposed by the receding line of snow. While winter's toll on the grass and the contents of the flower beds is obvious, one should not be fooled into thinking there is no hope of further plant life without replanting. Nature repairs itself...and quickly. Above and below the ground, there is a rush to return to living fully in the sunlight.
Spring skies are this exact...and un-enhanced...shade of blue. A closer examination of the large cottonwood tree standing to the side of Wes Prieb Boulevard at the entrance to the Pool Hall reveals that it will not be too many days before the tree is in full leaf.
At the edge of the flower bed in front of Lodge 3, for the most part still covered by snow, the pointy spears of the iris push upward into the sunlight. 
Knobs and bulges of rhubarb appear out of the earth at the edge of the receding line of snow. This bed of rhubarb behind the kitchen will eventually be the source of many culinary delights.
At ground level, a line of iris ascend toward the sky in full view of an ever-diminishing bank of snow that still covers the windows of the Registration Office and the Operations Office.
Pleading "I'm fragile!" and "I have been frozen!" a sign asking people to keep off the grass stands in a place that will eventually become a green and sloping expanse that will be welcoming to Holden's yard blankets and an endless number of sun worshippers, readers, and nap-takers.
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