When I’m away from Wyoming for a while, I forget a bit about how magnificent it is. Coming home in the spring has been a joy. The weather is petulant and chaotic – warm and beautiful one day, snow and bone-deep cold the next. No matter, there’s hope and assurance that even the snow won’t last long, and what replaces it is amazing.
First there’s the sky. Yesterday, to the west the infinite blue above set off the Colorado Rockies, sixty miles away, so that the sun was reflecting off the snowy peaks. At the same time toward the east, a wedge-shaped storm front, bluish black and angry, sported lightening stabs along with turbulence and chaos. This morning started overcast but now, oddly shaped and somewhat grey puffs are beginning to give way to powdery blue. Since we’re a ‘flyover state’, jet contrails draw patterns among the clouds.
If I drop my eyes from above, the carpet of prairie grass below me becomes a delight of its own. Grasses grow greener with each snowfall, and just in the past few days, tiny flowers have begun appearing. Their courage and bravery seem incompatible with the harsh coolness of the winds, but even so, they persevere.
Maybe the best part of a spring homecoming is being welcomed with a serenade from the meadowlarks. There’s really no other sound like their happy calls. Such a gift! (If you’ve never heard one, or you just need a pick-me-up, click here- but don’t forget to come back!
So, while I’m wearing two pairs of socks most of the time, and we’re hoping the pipes in our trailer don’t freeze when the temps dip low in the night, I’m just reveling in the wonders of Wyoming, thankful for the beauty of God’s creation.
