Black Dirt

I live in an area with deep sand, according to the well drillers about 100 feet are sand before rock and clay. This weekend in west central Minnesota the snow is melted, unlike the foot and a half we have near Danbury. What you see is black dirt, or really mud, because it is still wet. Whereas in Oakland Township we welcome the rain because it firms up the sand, the contrary is true here, because when moisture is added to the black loam, Richardson, I believe it is, it turns to a bottomless quagmire. It also warms up faster and retains heat longer, which is why it is supreme cropland.
On an outing yesterday the terns were kiting across the fields in the 15-20 mile per hour breeze. A couple pairs of ducks whizzed by in the 20 minutes we were on the road.
This early morning there were Robins singing and alerting with their two distinct sounds, and the mourning doves were coo, coo, cooing. We could hear the train coming and it took 20 minutes to get to our location.
The low temperature for the night was 36 Farenheit so the puddles from the melted snow were mirror like.
I is a beautiful sunrise, purple to pink to gray.
Promises in the dirt, and in the sky.