There are so many moving targets right now.
Everything’s in flux.
Everything’s changing, so fast. Blink and you miss it.
The earth can’t decide if it’s holding it’s breath and waiting, or running on ahead in a rush; sometimes both in the same day.
I was out for a long walk a week or so ago, and the familiar landscape of very early spring captivated me as it always does: lines and planes and subtle shifting colours.
Hints of things to come, traces of change, shifts below the surface.
… And just as quickly: all of this river ice, altered completely with a (too short) warm spell, that sudden speeding-up of transformation that erases what was a gradual reinvention, solid to liquid.
There’s still ice in the valley, but it’s been subdued – it’s sun-worn now, rounded edges and dramatic cracks turned to soft grooves in what’s left – despite the renewed chill in the air.
Blink and you miss it. It’s the Prairies, it’s always been that way.