Spring in the country is magical. Time is dictated by wildflowers popping up everywhere. Nothing is groomed or irrigated, there are no gardeners with leaf blowers making sure the sidewalks stay clean. There are no sidewalks, just the wild countryside. It’s a breathing animal that inhales and exhales through the valley. I hear the coyotes raising their young with no shortage of rabbits to practice the hunt. As the sun sets, frogs croak from the nearby creek and the bugs come out searching for light.
The recent rains in San Diego have washed away the dust and drought leaving bright green, misty mornings. There’s a raw excitement; the smell of fresh greens, orange blossoms, and a hint of horse manure. Our new chickens started laying the instant a warm day came upon us.
This sense of wonder is still new to me, as if I hadn’t experienced spring until we moved here. It’s good to know that moments like this still exist. In the simplest forms there is always something new to find, an exploration for all senses, a grounding desire to return to the land.