The natives are getting restless. The visitors are moving on. Spring has sprung and commerce has begun. You see a sea of activity. Neighbors everywhere are digging in the dirt. Looking for the places each got hurt. Trying to mitigate some of that pain for a greater gain. Or lesser loss as ever it may be. The painfully slow rising of the bar on productivity. Temperatures slowly rise (on aggregate) with the sun in the noonday sky. Fowl slowly rise up to the currents carrying them north. More timid sky pilots jet out to test the behavior of the new season’s air. I saw my first butterfly a couple days ago, I think it was a monarch.

As were the two tattooed (one yellow one red) onto the back calves of the shapely young lady walking by up on the bluff when I stopped at the Lewis and Clark monument to watch the cold front blow into the metro area. The view of the Missouri river bottom from up on the overlooking bluff is exquisite. As is the opportunity to observe the motion of man and mate as you sit (or strand, lie, etc.) and watch the sun go down. There are planes, trains and automobiles passing by at their separate paces and in their separate thoroughfares lined up below the bluff. There are circling soaring turkey vultures riding the updrafts sometimes only an arms length away in front of the bluffs.

Life is coming out of hibernation from it’s winter season of slumber. Waking up and stretching it’s bones and sinews. Take a deep breath and gird up the loins. It’s going to be a faster year than the ones before. They all are. Like a twirling dancer pulling in their arms as the spinning pitches up in tempo. Thank God for muscle memory and subconscious reflex. When its passing this fast they are good tools to have honed. Buckle up and batten down. The cargo could shift as we navigate the vortices be they charted or not. Inventory could be lost. Yet have no fear the crew is sound. Arrive alive.