Icing

This is the weather we awoke to last Thursday morning —a record four inches of snow, which was preceded by the warmest May 9th ever recorded in Bozeman.

Once I received verbal confirmation from a friend that the snow would not kill the delicate magenta blossoms that had just emerged on the tree in our yard, I became totally enchanted by the contrast of the white dusting on the newly bright life emerging around us.

Like icing on the most delicious cake.

The two closest calls that I've had in my car this year have been caused by my utter distraction by these frosted blooms, and by a pack of llamas that caught my eye.

 With this kind of weather unpredictability, it's no wonder that Stella and Zoey refuse to leave the house in anything other than their massive Bog boots, (even when dressed in otherwise summer clothes.)

Spring, with all its shedding of layers, hunting down of long-forgotten sprinklers and lost flips to match the flop that never left the closet, prolonged evenings of bedtimes creeping later and later despite best intentions, and promise of what's to come, opens me up.