Courage

The bird chorus is nearing its May peak in the twilight of early morning now. Today a black and rust and white towhee called from the top of a chokecherry bush, only a few feet away from me and the dogs. I saw that the first blooms on that bush were just opening last weekend, starting at the base of the white flower cluster. The air is filled with pockets of fragrance, from the cherries and apples, from the golden currant twenty feet down the path, and from the wild blooms that are ending their April bloom.

The meadow is solid green and the willow bushes and tall cottonwoods are beginning to come to life. Ink-colored catkins line the woodland floor, and fall into the frog pond to sink to the bottom. The green female catkins are swelling to produce the cottonwood fluff that will fill the air in June. A haze of green is starting to be visible on the canopy of the cottonwoods, made from tiny leaves breaking bud, that will soon turn these sunny woods into a shady corridor.

One can't help but be affected by the return of life in spring. Going out there as much as I do makes me feel as if I am renewed also. I find myself dreaming of the pristine wilderness that me and Bena and Maggie will visit this summer - the San Juans, the Eagle Nest and Flattops wilderness, the Collegiates, the Madison Range of Montana. My heart is filled with expectation and hope about we we will witness on those trips. At the same time I am proud I have kept myself in shape to backpack to those high places for another year.

The status quo never lasts too long, and if you want to get up to the high country with a backpack on, you need to work to keep your back and legs in shape. I have done that, all winter, because I want to see as much as I can of the wondrous places in these mountains before it passes me by.

All the things I love up there - the snow-covered peaks, the mountain bluebirds, the twinflower and calypso orchids, the spruce-fir forests and bristlecone pine, will remain long after me and Ben and Maggie are gone. Courage is love expressed in getting out and heading up there, as much as possible, so we can enjoy it while we are still able.

Spring also has me thinking of a saying I read about loving again like you have never been hurt. I asked a pretty lady I have known for a couple of years to go on a hike. She said yes, and stood back and smiled so beautiful, which scared me a little, as if this could be the beginning of losing the freedom I have gotten so used to. Not necessarily. I need to have courage.