Recklessly Blooming

"Everything is blooming most recklessly;
if it were voices instead of colors,
there would be an unbelievable shrieking
into the heart of the night." (Rainer Maria Rilke)

It's here, quite suddenly. Spring everywhere I look, and while walking Duncan there's a lot of looking. Especially with a camera tucked into one pocket, pushing against the bag of pumpkin treats I've slid in there. Everything is magical in Spring. Nothing should escape notice. I was one of many people stopping along the shore of the lake to take pictures and it warmed my heart. There were berry-shaped blossoms, ripples of sun dancing on the lake and the buds and the grass, tiny little bugs crawling across the body of a dandelion which must've seemed like a field of yellow to its eyes and nose. The sky was magnificent, the air warm and only slightly potato skin-scented from the restaurant on the north shore. I could smell the lake, strong and fishy, green and thick. There was something sweet, too, like mint, almost pungent which reminded me of childhood walks through the pastures up in the mountains south of Pocatello. Was it water cress? Does water Cress even have a smell? Maybe it was mint. Whatever, it was sharp and strong and unbearably sweet in my nose. The bugs were also out, swarms of them, gold in the light, the one drawback of the warm months. I'm lucky in that the only place I get bit by mosquitoes is North Dakota, where the things are as big as birds and meaner than geese.
Thank God for Duncan and our walk in the glorious, glorious spring. I wish you were all here to share it with us.