Too much dust and too little rain make Spring hard to find in the high desert. Or maybe it is my unpracticed eye. I have to look hard to find the rebirth here. Long walks on the mesa over time provide pleasure and surprise. And maybe I am learning the seasons.
Still one has to be observant to find even the tiniest hope.
Desert gifts can be guarded with thorns,
the beauty may be subtle.
Or it might be a burst of joy when least expected.
On the mesa it rains in Spring but it always somewhere else…… over there. No April showers here or May…or
The wind gusts and moves sand dunes and ripples them like waves. The road I follow in my jeep once hard and flat is wash board now or the depth of sand calls for four wheel drive ….depending on which way the wind blows. But still there is evidence of new life.
And the wind mill can still raise water from desert depths… enough for the livestock.
And the chores of spring begin and continue into summer.
Subtle desert Spring.