A co-worker remarked recently how, despite growing up in
Montana, she had never before noticed the abundance of red brush growing in
varied regions of our fair state. The visual spareness of almost-spring perfectly sets off such vibrant infrastructure. This close-in view
(yes, dear sister who will wonder, the shrub embraced me, plus anchored me from further leaf-mold slip down the bank) brings to mind
Jacob's
speckled sheep sticks; perhaps a boon of
herefords are headed this direction.
