The quiet of a country road. The smell of a property frequented by sheep and cows. Here in the nearly untouched landscape of rolling hills and tree canopies the sun comes out for a brief moment. We all turn towards it, trying to soak up as much as we can, knowing fully well it will disappear in minutes. Rain jackets are thrown to the ground to celebrate the brief moment of spring.

The white, fluffy clouds roll by, bringing darker, more mysterious ones in their wake. We wait for the storm and cross our fingers that it won’t be a deluge. It’s spring after all.