Spring

There is something decidedly bipolar about Montana's weather, especially in the spring.  Her mood swings follow no discernible pattern. One moment the weather will be fine, smelling of spring (which is delightful when the smells of thawing manure and deer carcasses don't dominate), and the next moment the only thing visible outside my window will be swirling snowflakes.

She is like a woman, awakening after a long sleep.  She slips from between her white sheets and goes to her closet, only to find that the frothy green garb of spring has not yet been readied for her. Unwilling to wear autumn's gown, she slips back under her white covers to doze a little longer.

In Montana, the sleep of winter is indeed long, with many tantalizing false stirrings, before spring finally arrives.  Still, signs of the approaching spring continue to appear.  

One day there will be a hint of green in the fields or lawns...

Calves and lambs begin to be seen in increasing regularity.  

And the time between sun,

storm (like this one rolling in),

sun,

and being able to see the ground again (in the valley, if not quite in the mountains) 

Gets shorter with each repeated cycle.  

Yes, someday spring will arrive...though by that time, it may be autumn again.