Wound up and worried about my mother, Paul suggested I leave the studio for some air. I stoked the wood stove with scraps and headed out on a hike up the mountain with him. Admiring the fresh green stuff sprouting everywhere, Paul said, “Looks like winter has lost its hold.” Just then (and I mean just as he finished his sentence) it started snowing. Honest. We got pelted with white stuff until we topped out in the “Sound of Music Meadow” where super tough yet delicate looking wildflowers have begun to show off. Bold defiant bits of bright color hovered close to the green ground and the snow bounced all around us. A little over a week ago I post-holed knee deep through large sections of snow on the same hike. Today the snow patches are simply little “patchlets” that can be walked around. We stood at the edge of the meadow above a ravine and looked through the snow flurry toward the valley at the engorged Yellowstone River below. Roads, highways, and the interstate surrounding Livingston are closed due to flooding - springtime drama in the Rockies.

Now I sit at my desk in the office studio. The fire crackles. The sun shines. I can see clouds unleashing more snow yonder above the Crazy Mountains. I feel like the sky – a mix of sunshine and shadows, fluffy clouds and daunting heavy grey cloud banks. Sleep deprived and a bit overwhelmed, I could easily curl up under a quilt in the nap room and sleep away the afternoon. But the deadline for two commissions looms. Then too – like the clear patches of blue and sunshine – I have a focused direction and creative mission for my own work once I complete the commission. The commission is a bit like the lingering winter weather, a storm in the way of bright light blue sky creativity. I have a bad case of “spring fever” right here – inside. Another snow flurry or two (or three) and then some mud to navigate. Meanwhile, I appreciate the defiant tough wildflowers and each little lick of sunshine that beams between storms.