Some images, thoughts, and observations from a 4.5 hour walk I took today with the donkeys and Skookum.A couple— mallards winging with the brisk wind fly past my head – flying so low they thread the pines — like a deadly weaving Cooper’s Hawk hot on the chase.
Predator and prey pass the same way.
April’s roaring sharp wind penetrates like the red-tailed hawk’s scream.
The fuzzy new lupine—so many small hands reach toward the sun —emerged from the gnarled, gray decay of last year’s expression.
Why is this so beautiful?
How does one live fearlessly?
The beauty of a Bumbleburr is to be able to change plans. We didn’t spend much time on the ridge. The fierce cold wind drove me off, and the donkeys found their favorite grass scarce up there. They cantered down the ridge path and waited for me at the crossroad.