Meanwhile back at the ranch it’s 87’. A hot, dry, March wind is ruffling the chair covers as the wind chimes dance and ring out their musical notes. There’s a burn ban in place and no hint of rain in the foreseeable future. 😩

We fire up the Ranger and gather dead branches to feed the burgeoning pile of nature’s debris. But there’ll be no flames today. A severe weather warning is in effect—danger of brush fires. 🔥

It feels productive to gather the tangled, fallen limbs and broken branches. But this deadwood is brutal. Unforgiving. The brittle, intertwined twigs are razor sharp and show no mercy. Flesh is pierced and blood is drawn. But progress is rewarding. Clearing our upper meadow of the ugly, and potentially dangerous, mass of knitted branches provides a sense of healing. Maybe even redemption for the painful perseverance.

A hot shower and a thirst-quenching hydration drink, and I am inspired to wander out yonder to admire the morning’s work.

Behold! What have we here? New life glimmers through the dead grass, near the burn pile—a few bluebonnet plants burst through the ashes and the tiniest of white flowers smile up at me through the scorched earth. The Star of Bethlehem flower thrives. Oh joy!

Ah, the cycle of life! Thank you Lord for the blessings today and your promise of tomorrow. ✨✨