Long about this time of year, I cannot help but daydream about the coming of spring.

Winter has devolved from a fresh new world into a dreary and endless drive down icy roads midst dirty snowdrifts and ever present bitter howling winds. Please God, let me up. I’ve had enough.

And have pity on the antelope wintering in the barrens of Badger Basin and all the other critters who have a tough go of it, man and beast, when the temperatures plummet and the winds howl and there isn’t much to eat.

Bring us this day an early green up and a bountiful snowmelt, evenly distributed but not extending too late into the summer. And deliver us from hail.

Bring forth the wild irises in early profusion on the flanks of Heart Mountain and sprinkle the McCullough Peaks with Indian paintbrush and cowboy lilies before the midsummer heat.

Fill up each and all the water catchments, Lord, large and small, and even spare some for Montana.

Let the butterflies and the hummingbirds come with the flowers as they always have, following the bloom up the mountainsides. And if its your will, God, let this be a special year for the wildflowers. Let us witness the Big Horns and the Pryors and the Beartooths splashed with such outrageous color as to defy belief. I’ve seen it so I know it can happen again.

Keep the jackrabbits out of my friend’s emergent sugar beets, Lord, and the coons out of my sweet corn. Help me smite the weeds and make it tough on the mosquitoes. Help everybody make a crop and get paid for it this year.

Fill the lakes and streams and reservoirs with fish and the woods with new life.  Let all the little colts born this year have straight and true legs.

Keep the baby birds in their nests when the summer windstorms come.

Help the man with the keychain understand his mission is to help people access their public lands resources rather than prevent entry and use.

Lord help me to drive straight and true on my Rzr adventures, and keep my horse and mule safe from harm despite their poor work ethic.

Help us have sunny days at the lake or by the streamside or at the old campground or in the backyard. Help farmers put their hay up without the harassing rains of last summer, but deliver us our rain in timely and measured allotments.

Give us our iced tea and lemonade in big chilled pitchers. And God, if its your will, make the spring and summer slow down just a little, so it doesn’t seem as if the Fourth of July is followed immediately thereafter by Labor Day.

Finally, Lord, if you could start this process sooner rather than later, there’d be a lot of appreciative hearts in the Powell valley, not to mention people out at Clark.

Amen.