Yes, it's me again.

I'm feeling posty this morning, energized actually.

There are a few pink blossoms left on the tree next door, but otherwise it has that ragged and spent look of the end of spring, like a harbinger of hotter days and summertime. You wouldn't know it to look outside though. It snowed this morning. Great white fluffy celestial clumps pelting down all over the street like the heavens throwing loosely packed snowballs. The trees, road, sidewalks, rooftops, everything covered in soft mounds of snow beneath a gray sky. When I got up at 11 last night I thought it was snowing because the streets looked oddly pale and white under the yellow light of the street lamps. The sky was pale like a clear night with a full moon hovering close to the earth. But the moon wasn't visible through the heavy clouds. Now the snow is mostly gone, except in shadowed areas under the eaves of houses and in the corners. In little over an hour the sun has chased the snow into the ground and back to the sky to weight down the clouds again in nature's recycling plan.

Across the road and here and there along the street lilacs poke defiantly at the sky with bluish-purple blossom fingers and bare trees are bursting with feathered fronds and new green leaves. Neighborhood cats chase the squirrels back into the trees and the all-you-can-eat gutter buffet next door is open for business and filling with birds and squirrels.

I feel like the neighborhood coming out from under its temporary cover of snow under the warming rays of the sun. To that end I called The Gazette and asked about how they handle freelancing. Pam gave me the names and numbers of some of the editors, specifically the editor of Arts & Entertainment, because I have an idea for a profile of Michael Johnson to help promote Jimbo's Grand Opening, where MJ will be playing, and I have been up since two this morning writing. I admit I'm reluctant to get to work on the job that allows me to pay to live in this wonderful little corner of Old Colorado City and help keep Mountain Mama's in business, but I have to pay for my avocation somehow, at least until I'm finished with the new book and it ends up on the NYT best sellers' list.

I'm not afraid of the silence any more.