The world turned upside down. The grey-tone clouds that mottled the sky very much resembled the pavement I took to get here. Dark streaks of oil stain, potholes showing through to another world beyond. The one curbed by mountains, the other by concrete. When I reached my destination water fell up into my face as I rode upside down across that great expanse of turf that is Picnic Valley. Kicked up from wheels, fallen from clouds. Falling, rising, the water has given rise to Spring - who covers the hillsides, lines the trails and backside roads, fills some trees, while others await just a little more sun. I fully expected to see wildflowers (mustard does not count), but Persephone is yet to touch them. It will not be long now - Monkeyflower is emerald in new growth, revived from the end of Summer die-back. I predict they will be the first of the blooms, the example for others to emulate.
The horizon was a hard edge today, approached with care and caution. A sharpness cutting the grey, releasing a flood of pent up green. A flow from an open wound, it swept down hills, flooding draws, cascading over rocks, overwhelming all unable to escape the rampage. I chose to forego a distance ride along barren river channel today in favor of a shorter ride in these hills chasing shifting horizons. I chose well.