Dandelions marked the way of the start, the wind loud enough to sound like a waterfall. I come across a fallen maple tree. One of the branches, I count about 40-50 years old. I would guess the tree about 150.
Everything is the new color of green, and there is coolness. And humidity, It rains a bit and I take my shirt off. There will be no one else here. The chert stones and the spring flowers, the thirteen-lined ground squirrel.