The Color of Time

It has been a long time since I drove into western Glenn County, into cantaloupe melon hills and Cerulean blue lake, wheatgrass flaxen in the Slattery sun, the golden light of California silhouetting the birds in late 95 degree spring time. The Celtic Hour reached me all the way from Nevada City's public radio through the smell of farmland and evaporating water, orchards and freedom, melting together in the newfound heat of another year that begins with long days. If you can survive it, you will learn to love it. Later, for the first time ever, I could see Andromeda without looking slightly away. This does not mean you will win, said the twinkle-less galaxy, it just means your efforts have meaning.