Spring in the swamp was always a busy time of year. The plants were in full bloom, awake and ready to thrive through the warm months. The birds and frogs and other small creatures sang their songs from morning to night, and from night 'til dawn. The sun stayed in the sky longer, the rains came and made the ground damper, and all the while life surged out of its wintery slumber.The Curve of Old Bones enjoyed this time of year immensely. She liked to stop and smell the flowers, watch the little critters as they woke from their slumber and began their homemaking, wade into cool swamps to graze on the fresh pond weeds and lily pad flowers, and simply exist in the world around her. Though her size for a doe was quite impressive and her antlers and demeanor gave off a rather intimidating air, she was as peaceful as a honey bee and as old a soul as the thickest tree in the swamp.
It was as glorious a day as any as Curve headed through the swamp slowly, her hooves making dull thuds as she walked along one of the drier paths. She was heading for a little meadow that was full of birds and bees and other pleasant things, the air smelling of honeysuckle and other fragrant plants that grew there. It was a nice place to greet the sun as it rose above the trees and, for any kin brave enough to join her, a nice place for a chat. She wasn't going to count on company, but she was ready for conversation if the opportunity presented itself.