Mud to Dust and Back to Snow Again!

.
Pre-ramble: I had every intention of posting the curious inscription beneath the petroglyphs of the last post. I went through my files and realized that my photos were poor at best, at least as far as offering any detail for you to study and consider further. Although I had scaled the talus gingerly with my gimpy knee that day, I did not make the last few feet up to take a detailed photo of it. Getting up to a location is not so daunting but, in the wisdom of my later years, I have come to appreciate that gravity and inertia will complicate any return downwards many fold. And so it was my intention to return to that location this week to capture better photos this time. The weather and this lingering illness apparently had ideas of their own. Fine, be that way, next week then!

The bug: Mark succumbed fully to this latest nasty bug on Sunday . Today, he is 95% recovered. I am at about 70% recovered, enough to start this new journal entry. And as Slim would say "Well, that's GOOD!"
. .
Our inevitable mud of spring has finally cried and dried itself away. Dust has taken its place without apology. What you see above and below is the dust created by the heavy construction traffic to the new well on our land across the creek. The heavy rolling tires only aggravated the already lustful appetite of the young Spring winds and I have no doubt that over a ton of dust was uprooted and offered up to their pleasures.
.
.
The mood of the canyon can change within the hour. The tantrums of the ever-restless skies above can turn your best-laid plans to naught just as quickly. Above, a sudden darkness is elbowing out our normal deep blue sky and voluptuous white clouds. Below, you can see the 'big picture' of that encroaching weather bully. There is something incredibly humbling and inspiring about being able to see the weather around you at this broad a scale.
.
.
.
I can tell it's a Wednesday night despite the lack of calendars around here ... the cowboys are arriving for supper. If you enlarge this photo, you just might see something in the far background which may alarm you - not to worry however. I will cover that story at a later date.

It's funny how a ritual can be established without any planning at all and Wednesday has lately become our default dining get together. And it is a joyous one, an occasion to laugh and indulge and catch up on the previous week's news. Above, Slim and Clay pile out of Slim's truck. When I questioned Slim's odd parking angle to the porch, he unveiled a nicely premeditated plan to have the tail gate fold down at porch height and thus giving dogs easy access to the world and cowboys easy access to coolers. That boy is always thinking.
.
I eventually pulled the thick pork steaks out of the oven. They had been slow and low baking since lunchtime in a thick sweet and sour sauce along with half-fried, half-baked seasoned potato slices and a long pan of cornbread. I replicated Clay's bacon cooked green beans and upped the ante a little with some finely diced pepperoni added in for good measure.

The banter, laughing and conferring never stopped throughout the evening, even when a more dignified version of Blazing Saddles set in after supper. Poor ol' Brou, I suspect, has become the classic scapegoat for errant flatulence; his reputation a curse which will 'dog' him in perpetuity. God bless that pup and his long patience at being conveniently and unjustly accused!
.
Before the cowboys left that evening, a much colder wind and heavier gray clouds had over-shadowed us under the cover of darkness. Slim's dogs took shelter under the 45' trailer as snow started to fall. Above is this morning's remaining snow covering. Am I feeling more convinced that winter's last hurrah has come and gone now? Better but no cigar just yet.
.
.
.