First oak leaves have appeared in the grove bounding the west side of the meadow.
They're always first to bud and leaf out. The rest will catch up in a week, maybe two.
First leaves of the lower aspen grove along the creek have appeared too.
And the first wild Iris has bloomed, the only one I could find in the entire meadow.
It's not much warmer out today, though. A cold front brought chill wind from the northwest.
The kit that died is still where I put it, unmolested. I replaced the apple blossoms guarding it.
Not far from there, a homesteader cabin still stands more than 100 years after it was built.
The nearest village is eight miles away. The nearest city thirty two miles. The solitude must have been superb then, but it's hard to imagine how hard life was here so long ago–traveling by steed or buckboard to and from town for supplies. No indoor plumbing. No electricity.
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