A Spring Walk with Cooper

Part of the challenge with our infernal climate is the severe variation in temperature. We can experience -30C in the winter just as easily as we can have +30C in the summer, with oppressive humidity to boot. We've seen drops of 20C in a matter of hours. Most days aren't as drastic as that, but suffice it to say the swing in seasons is quite diverse.

With each season come fresh discoveries and renewed memories. I wonder if I would become blasé about the consistency of nature if I lived in a climate that stayed the same all year long? Each season here is a marvel all its own.

Cooper and I are back to our regular walks now that the fields are dry again.  These photos were all taken on May 10th, 2011, and with Blogger being down recently, I nearly forgot to post them.  Alas, they are descriptive of our late-start to spring, so here it goes:

My favorite daffodils are finally blooming!

So are the pink daffodils outside the kitchen window!

Cooper's anxiously circling me as I inspect the flowers in the garden, because I said the magic word:  Jawannagoferawalk?

You can tell Cooper is smiling here.  My little Holstein, I call him.  He is totally in his element when we go for our long walks.

Look, we found some raccoon tracks in the mud:

It looks like they have opposable thumbs.  (Actually, they don't!) It's no wonder they can untie the bungee cord you keep putting around the lid on your garbage can.

On our rounds, we stopped to check out my favorite tree:

I love this glorious elm.  It's my favorite for miles around, and sadly, one of the last remaining elms in our local area.  The trees are just beginning to bud, and show just how far behind we are this season.

Everything is so, so green.  The horsetails glow among the blades of grass, and the setting sun serves to brighten things even more.

The red osier dogwood contrasts against last year's phragmite, which stands out against the green of the pine.

Cooper's always a few paces ahead of me, following his nose.  There is so much to smell, with those raccoons, the coyote and all his scat (you have no clue how many plastic bags he eats!), and the ducks and geese that fly overhead.  Some fly so close to us we can hear the woosh-woosh of their wings.

During clear summer evenings, we often get lucky and red bi-plane from a local airport does acrobatics in the skies above us.  I lie down in the grass and stare at the sky.  I watch the plane's loops and rolls, and can just  imagine how much fun it would be to sit in an open cockpit and do a barrel roll.  I imagine what things were like during the barnstorming era as I lay in the grass with Cooper by my side.  Things haven't changed that much, have they?

The sun sets amongst the aspen trees, and we slowly make our way home.  The sky is bug-free, a nice change from summer, and the air is cool and crisp.  Birds chirp, jays squawk, and the robin sings its carefree song.

We catch the half-moon in the sky above the barn:

Suddenly, despite the fact we've been out for nearly 2 hours, we are both invigorated by our adventure.  There was so much to discover, so much newness around us, that it's hard not to get caught up in the beauty of spring.