I know toes are weird, but stick with me...
Just before spring each year, Montana is just, well, brown. Dirty, dusty, kind-of-cranky brown. Green has to force it's way into the picture.
This year, it feels especially so. Like creation wants to become new, and is making me notice. The only way I see myself keeping pace with the change is by finding some sure footing and watching and waiting until it's time for me to move.
I can focus on the messy, matted, unruly brown, or I can focus on the green peeking through. It's my choice.