Meanwhile, back below the treeline, in the mixed forests, the mountains vent their steam…stuff is happening somewhere.

Mysterious…clouds…fog…what? Subtle changes in temperature and humidity…why? Beautiful…local…non-specific…can you feel that in your lungs? In your heart?

The air of the coming spring begins to fill…fill with a richness that only can be sensed inside the lungs.

And as freshly intoxicating as it may be, a look up the slope shows upland pastures still dead yellow, dead brown…still not yet returned from winter’s cold sleep.

…too busy…I almost missed Spring…6…next…last