May 2025 - On The Mountain

Sunburn and Snowfall

Hello, Wild Ones,

As I write, the view has opened to show the layers in the clouds. The nearest ones move quickly by, while the farther ones slowly billow as they move across the sky. In a moment, a gust of wind will bring the closer clouds into my yard, and it will begin to rain once again. This might be my favourite May to date. I can’t tell if it’s because the weather has been favourable, or because I’ve finally learned to roll with the punches.

Dark nearest clouds, light billowy farther clouds, and the lowest clouds in this picture are rising from the river, a long way below.

The Upper Spring

For about a week after the snow melts, I still find myself walking the old snow-packed trails. It’s a force of habit, and it gives me a quiet laugh each time I catch myself stepping around snowbanks that no longer exist. With the snow finally gone, the ground is fully saturated, and the upper spring has started to run again.

I built a small dam with a pipe to help harness the water. When I say "built a dam," what I really mean is that I turned into a child playing in the mud. By the time I was done, I was soaked, caked in mud, and had sore muscles the next day. Now the water flows down to where I can use it, keeping the plants and animals watered.

Sunburn and Trees

After two full days of planting trees, I was sunburnt, bug-bitten, and bone-tired. I planted thirty-eight young trees, each one tucked into its forever home. It was the kind of effort that leaves your body sore but your spirit light, knowing you've helped set something into motion that will outlast you.

The sunburn caught me off guard. I’ve learned before, but apparently not well enough, how quickly the sun can turn harsh up here. At higher elevations, the air is thinner and holds less atmosphere to filter the sunlight. That means even when it feels cool, especially in spring, the sun can still burn fast.

It felt like a joke, or maybe a reminder: up here, the mountain does what it wants, when it wants

Snow, More!

A few days later, while still feeling the sting of that sunburn, it began to snow. A dramatic wind brought big, fluffy flakes, blizzard-style. I sat looking through the truck window as the world turned white around me. Thankfully, it didn’t last all day and quickly melted, watering my new saplings.

I made new doors for the bunny hutches - Goldie approves

The Greenhouse and Barn

With the goats re-homed earlier this year, the barn feels quieter now. I’ve been slowly renovating the space, clearing out bedding, and making plans for how it might serve differently in this next chapter. It’s strange how quickly a space shifts once the animals are gone. I miss them in moments, but I know it was the right choice. Now, the barn is opening up to new use.

The nights are still too cold to risk moving my seedlings out of the house just yet. Up here, a late frost can sneak in well into May, so the general rule of thumb is to wait until June 1st before planting anything outdoors. For now, it’s a stretch of limbo: tending what’s not yet ready, preparing spaces for what’s to come. The days are full, but in a way that feels steady.

The neighbours stopped for a little chat

The Green World

The world has turned green almost overnight. The leaves are fully out now, trembling aspen fluttering in the breeze. Grasses of different types are thriving, and there are more dandelions this year than ever before, thanks to the abundance of rain.

The trees are in. The plan for the barn is shifting. The greenhouse is ready for new life. Even though the nights still carry a chill, the season has tipped. This is the kind of spring I’ll remember. One where things are thriving and have rooted themselves deeply.

Thank you for walking through May with me. I’ll be back next month with more stories from the mountain.

Until Then, Stay Wild.