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Friday, March 17
This is about as green as we'll get today.
To the best of my knowledge, I am neither Irish, nor Catholic.
It is doubtful that I will be consuming any green beer.
Feel free to dance a jig, chase leprechauns, and kiss the Blarney Stone.
(Doing so is said to give the kisser the gift of eloquence.)
I'll be kissing instead, the Weather Rock. My gift, bloviation.
There will be lots of water in the valley this spring.
The snow pack this year is much deeper than average.
Descending into Hidden Valley looking west.
Some snow flurries earlier, and it rained all afternoon.
The sun poked out just before setting. Absolute calm.
But right after dark, the valley comes alive.
It starts with one or two frogs. A pair of honkers.
Add some cows mooing, horses whinnying,
sheep bah-ing (or whatever it is called when they do that),
throw in a pack of coyotes holwing, and of course
the poopies talking trash to all of them...