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Show To Every Seoson Try getting a smile out of your neighbor during a May snowstorm. Those flurries which were so eagerly awaited last December have now cast a pall of gloom over our budding spring expectations. expecta-tions. "Why me?" our neighbor sighs while braving a sudden squall to cover her garden. Face it, springtime in the Rockies, however lovely, can also be downright depressing. We have given up pretending preten-ding that each batch of wood we split will be the last and have instead taken up fantasizing about moving to the equator. "Next year in Punama!" we toast, as we have every spring. And still here we are 6,000 feet above sea level nurturing our seedlings indoors by the woodstove, our skis not yet put away for the season, grumbling that down in Daniels the lilacs are already blooming.. Just when we are really ready to throw in the towel, however, the wind dies down and we have a stretch of bluebird days. Last weekend was a perfect example. We got up cautiously Saturday morning, expecting the worst. The way the winds were blowing Friday night, rolling ominously dark thunderheads across the valley, we wouldn 't have been surprised to see a foot of snow drifted up against the haybarn. With great relief, we noted a little frost but no snow and the beginnings of one of those ciystal clear big sky country days. It was enough to make even a heathen shout halle-luah. halle-luah. There was no talk of Panama on Saturday. The sun shimmered on the water (lowing through the irrigation irriga-tion ditches. Out in the flooded field hundreds of gulls gathered to wade and bathe. All day a pair of magpies hauled stick-sized rafters and joists up to their nest, cackling at our spring cleaning efforts down below. With newborn calves and lambs in the fields, red-winged red-winged blackbirds and kes-trals kes-trals adorning the fence-posts, fence-posts, there didn't seem to be a need to make any hasty decisions about leaving. At dusk, we listened to a chorus of frogs singing in the ditches. In Provo Canyon a carload of tourists stopped to admire Bridal Veil Fulls. An elderly-baritone elderly-baritone started humming and a few bystanders joined in swaying and singing, "When It's Springtime in The Rockies ... " Before, long, a number of youngsters joined in, humming over the words they didn't know. There were watery eyes, lumps in the throat and no mention of Panama. J NO "i ... -- - i : : : i On The Cover It was a Mother's Day to remember in Old Heber City..' Moms, grandmoms, dads, grandkids and more helped to celebrate the grand opening of the Heber Creeper last weekend. See story Page 4. ' . ' |