Spring unfolding

Spring unfolds in Montana in a most painful, start-stop fickle manner over many months. I am sure the reality is no different in Afghanistan, though perhaps commencing a bit earlier and holding back its glories less petulantly. Since I arrived about ten days ago spring has been most generous. The grass in our personal and the hospital compounds has visibly greened and I can measure the new red-growth of the rose bushes. A type of lilac with single pale lavender blossoms throws out great plumy spikes from eight-foot tall bushes lining the short walk between the house and the hospital. The leaves are not the typical spade-shape, and the lilac fragrance is over-laid with a clove scent. Coming and going I cannot help the Foltz tendency for stealing flowers. Every morning a handful go to the hospital's office and every afternoon a handful return with me to my rooms.

A bush of salt-cedar, or tamarisk, is in tight blossom. I'm sure its cousins along the Yellowstone have yet to make a showing. Honeysuckle spirals in confusion over some make-shift trellises. In a few weeks they will thrum with insects.

I have said little about the place I'm living. The rooms of the apartment are laid out single file, along a short entrance hall: bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and study. All windows face west, but from 04:45 first light until sunset, all the rooms except the bathroom are flooded with light. The best word to describe it is comfortable, though I'm not sure others would use that the defining characteristic. It gives me what I want and more than what I need. I rearranged the furniture in the study so that I have a long "runway" to do tai chi, all the while looking at the snow-topped mountains--a most magnificent sight, the heights close at hand, just beyond the dusty bowl of the city.

From the study and while I write, I have a good view of the hill Tom and I climbed last Friday morning. There are always people walking its paths and usually a car creeping along the narrow bumpy road. Sometimes I see strings of runners/joggers. The best for me are the ones walking or playing along the crest. Their silhouettes are more stark than the forms trudging along the hillside. It is a hill where people live and use at their own; a part of their lives, not an obstruction.