Sunday Miracles

It seemed endless, didn’t it?  Like something that would last forever.  All the hills grey as death, the grass long burned off by drought to dusty brown, blasted, lifeless, and dreary.  Then came the soft rains and suddenly, miraculously, everything was green, everywhere, overnight.



And a white faced calf stopped grazing to puzzle over a car that pulled off the road for no reason,  while little




woolies rambled along a fence line.



Across the street, the Madonna Ranch mares and foals found themselves in a grassy green landscape,
   



and a young colt gazed at his verdant new world.




Meanwhile, poppies struggled out of the suddenly lush grass to turn their faces to the sun,




and even “my mountain” was dressed for Easter.

The sudden, sweet green world, a blessing on the land.  And back home, in my own front yard, the very first Matilija Poppy had opened its splendid, improbable, outlandish petals.  So many moments, so many miracles, in a world made new again.