I wrote this yesterday: Spring

I was awoken this morning by a blast of thunder that echoed through my bedroom in such a way that it sounded like there was a car crash in front of my house. It launched me out of bed, fortunitely, because my alarm was not set. Standing there without my glasses on, I couldn't really tell what was happening outside, other than it was gray. My glasses made me realize it was raining.

Thankfully, the coffee pot started when it was supposed to, and I stumbled out to the kitchen and poured myself a fine cup of Jamican Mountain Blue. I received a pound of that and a pound of another type of coffee from a coworker and her husband for my birthday, and I'll admit, it beats the living hell out of Folger's in the morning. I filled my cup after throwing a few slices of bread into the toaster, then, took my breakfast into the living room to listen to the news and check the cork.

Typically, I don't log on while there is an active storm, but, I needed to check some info for school today. As I booted up, I heard a tapping on the deck, and watched as marble sized hail fell for about three or four minutes.

It's been warm lately, warm enough so the snow pack is disappearing much faster than I thought it would. Is it just me, or is time accelerating as I'm getting older? March shouldn't almost be over. It seems like the New Year was just last week or the week before. I watched it hail as I sipped my coffee, thinking that it's almost sad that winter is over and spring has jumped into the fray.

Today is one of the days I teach on my sister campus, and I just got into my office. I'm supposed to have a student here now to take a test, but, he hasn't shown. I'll give him another ten minutes before I write him off for today. That's another story all together, however.

On the way up here, I marveled at the difference a week makes. Last week, the snow pack was heavy, pressing the canary grass to the ground and quilting the fields in white and translucent blues. But, today, the black soil is erupting, and some fields are awash in a sea of run-off water. Snow sets like ancient atolls on the oceans, decaying over time back into the cycle of life.

And death.

The ditches along the county roads I travel were flush with snow, and now, water rushes through, following the pull of gravity. Searching for the lower ground. Seeking the streams and creeks and rivers, until it finds its way to the bitch river that bursts out of her banks way too often. Luckily, we're not in much of a threat this spring, not unless we get a lot of rain in the next few weeks, but the river will rise soon. Already, upstream in Wapehton and Fargo they're discussing the degree of expected flooding, and the Minnesota govenor is flying over the valley of the Red River of the North to see what was once Lake Agassi.

Spring. Death turning towards life. Ewes giving birth to lambs. Does to fawns. Seeds to flowers and grasses and all other things green. And hopefully...to thoughts of peace.