Yesterday I was in the snow, turning up Left-hand Canyon, flying flakes in the air, snowing in Jamestown, falling like a shimmering shroud on Ceran St Vrain trail, lodging in Lodgepoles, now today I’m wondering where did it go? I’m standing in the sun by a yellow daffodil, in the middle of a Colorado April, once again pondering how time never does stand still. Soon all the creeks will be rising, all that falling snow will be flowing, and the wildflowers will be growing. I have heard it said that as we grow old we grow more wise. But I’m wondering if that is really the case or if it’s really that we just grow more tired?