The area, a well used watering hole for wildlife and grazing cattle, was littered with hoof prints and old bones. Signs of struggle, an old deer scull, a giant vertebrae, and mess of heron feathers remind us that we do not walk alone in the bush. Having been years since I last came across the feather from a blue heron, I collected a few take home with me. I carried them in a vintage jar I found bobbing next to the dams. The frost pushes strange relics from the ground and you never can be sure what you will find in the spring. Although unable to locate the asparagus we did find the new growth of yarrow poking through the rich soil and the first signs of stinging nettle, which I am thrilled to learn grows in the area.
It is a strange feeling as you drive down from our home in the hills, almost as if time is moving in fast forward. The snow melts and the dead grass gives way to meadows of greenery. The sage is renewed in colour and the grazing land has been filled with cattle and herds of wild horses and their foals. It brings me hope, knowing that spring will touch our hillsides in a few short weeks.