March brought Spring time to the high desert, taking us from winter snow to spring winds. Weather change of the season required the entire month. The snow cover receded slowly, the moisture sinking into the soil. The landscape is slightly green now, especially in the long light at sunset. The high desert is open again, only bound by far distant horizons. Winter seemed to drag on but it really did stay mostly within its allotted celestial time. And that was enough.

  The vernal equinox was a typical early spring day: clear, cold, with a breeze. The sun is tracking noticeably farther north. Shadow on the  clock demonstrates the intricate workings of the solar system. Set the sun beside the year’s first fire. The night sky defined the horizon by starlight.

  Recent times have connected me to people from way out of the past, some for the first time. I would never have guessed. But with the happiness of new-found past, came news of recent loss. A childhood friend passed away, killed in a fire. Long time ago we learned to canoe on lakes and rivers of Pennsylvania. The sister of my mother passed on, known to everyone as a sweet and gentle soul. She was a true part of the American way, descended from an immigrant couple to New Amsterdam in an unbroken line. Life, like knees, becomes much more realistically appreciated as we grow older.

   The dogs are of course enjoying the spring weather and all the delights of the season. But they seemed just a little reluctant to let go of winter, and enjoyed it to the very end.  Except Jo; she seems inclined to warm weather. Summer is on its way. Sometimes we all dance in the warm sun of morning or evening. Lately each dog has developed their own style of dancing, ambushing me around the ranch for a dance of joy.

  A new season of roaming and wandering under an enchanted sun. The transition that is spring is short-lived here on the high desert and some sights will go away quick. The sun brings about most of the changes, from snowmelt in the mountains to solar dust collecting on the planetary plane, or some such thing.

  Not too far out on the prairie are some small volcanic hills. On the summit of one hill is a small, crescent-shaped shelter-wall. Exactly due south a couple hundred yards on the next summit is a rock cairn. Surrounding the cairn is a small area of disturbed rock. The structures appear very old; even the 4^th generation rancher-lady that runs cattle on the allotment does not know the story. Sitting in the shelter gives an incredible feeling of being in the middle. The landscape runs relatively flat to the distant horizons of hills and mesas. The sky was a cloudless blue dome. And I was in the middle of it all, sitting on a rock put there a long time ago for just such a purpose. Probably just a coincidence. The more I learn of the ancient ways, the more I come to understand that most of the coincidences have a reason.

  Sunset horizon, with ravens, for you.