Of Nature, Grief And Mending A Broken Heart In a moving reflection, Susan Marsh writes about losing her husband, dealing with sorrow, government service and trying to rally for the wild things that matter by by Susan Marsh Springtime in the Rockies: seventy degrees one afternoon, in the teens the next morning with an inch of overnight snow. Wind. In spite of the weather, spring arrives later here and advances in small tentative steps. The bare branches of aspen, alder and willow sprout pollen-bearing catkins and the first tiny wildflowers appear. Dawn creeps through my window earlier each day and the evening sky holds light until after 9.