Sunday, March 1, 2015

March 1...

"Is it spring yet?" Ziva seems to ask. "Is it OK to come downstairs and go outside?" Sadly, no. Despite the weather men promising moderating temperatures, the thermometer on the deck read -10 when I suited up to do animal care this morning. My oldest sister sent me an email last week stating that the cold weather was causing her to lose her will to live. I chuckled when I read that and thought she was being mighty dramatic. But when every morning greets me with sub zero temperatures, I begin to think she is right. I'm losing a bit of my will to live, too. The snow is rather a pain, but it's the days of frigid weather with no let up that is wearing me down. When I let the dogs out and it is that cold, they cannot stay out for more than a few moments. The cold must make their feet ache terribly. They begin to stand on three feet, holding up one, then another. They hunch their spines and hang their heads, and look collectively miserable. Plus, they are so distracted by cold that they forget to take of business. It's maddening. And it seems as if it will never end.

But there are signs of spring coming. The horse is shedding up a storm. The goats are getting wider around the middle, hopefully each of them will deliver a kid or two in early April, and that is just around the corner! The days are longer, too. And the Chickadees are bravely singing their spring-time song. Speaking of which, I have not managed to capture it on film, but on a number of occasions I have witnessed the tiny birds clutching to the tip of the ice-cycles that hang outside the studio windows, and sipping up the drips of water that melt when the sun hits them. It is charming beyond description.

And so I will struggle along in the current pattern as the days move inexorably forward. Bracing myself to face the cold, mustering my flagging will to live, and taking heart by planning what we'll plant in the garden and pouring over the poultry catalogs, deciding which breeds of chicks will come to live in the coop this spring. In my head, spring begins in March. It is traditionally a month filled with happy expectation for me. My birthday is in March, we married in March, and our daughter was born in March. So as I open that lovely, clean, blank calendar page to March 1 I am filled with hope and anticipation for the warmer days that are sure to come.

1 comment:

El Dauncey said...

We survive so we can help others to. Critters or people. Both are worth our love and efforts. Your work is a thing of beauty.