Late yesterday afternoon I cleaned the blood from the front seat of my truck (left from Cliff’s post surgery ride home) and threw in my dusty biking backpack covered in dried mud from the last ride a few weeks ago (where we got caught in a downpour/hailstorm). I drove over the lush green pass to Bozeman and marveled at the blooming countryside. Distant storms crept over snow capped mountains. My own soul felt like it had swallowed a dark storm cloud full of tears but it felt better to move with and through that cloud than to sit and brew.

After I helped my girlfriend Leslie with the final chores of packing and moving from her home, we headed for the hills. The trail was pretty buff and mostly dry. Switchback after switchback we climbed through thick woods to mountain meadows full of wildflowers. My body is once again strong and healthy –no longer the strange post-surgery unfamiliar weakened core that challenged my patience and confidence last year. I am springing back with the lush vigor I see around me. Our own woods are abundant after an especially long dark drawn-out cold, wet and dramatic spring. We are not free from storms- in fact the clouds unleashed more rain after our gleeful descent last night- but we are gifted with glowing sunshine and wildflower filled respite between the storms. Looming storms heighten awareness and sharpen senses. Unleashing storms humble and awe. Post storm intense aroma and freshness renew and refresh. The sunshine warms and soothes. All of Mother Nature’s moods are beautifully played on the grand stage of the Rocky Mountains where I am lucky enough to call home and in which my own soul’s propensity for intensity finds kinship.