Spring...

Spring in Maine takes tiny baby steps as it approaches. In the last week we've lost most of the snow. I took the bulky ice grips off my heavy boots, (maybe a bit prematurely, the walk to the chicken coop is still a little slick.) Suddenly there are deer everywhere. They are nibbling on something, I'm not sure what. I am happy to see them.

 Flocks of Robin's are swooping in, chattering and looking for food.  A friend from the next town reported that the Red Wing Blackbirds were at her place today, singing their hearts out and making her feel alive. AND I have had a few male Bluebirds here, scouting the houses and singing prettily. There is MUD. Deep, slurpy, wet, cold mud. Which leads me to a story.  Sarah donkey has been wearing her very special boots for some time now. I finally got the bill for them, $215. I was fine with that, until I got to thinking, "I don't have boots that cost that much. But my DONKEY does!" There is something wrong with this, I'm sure of it. But still and all,  I've been following doctors orders to a "T", taking the boots off every 3 days, treating her hooves with tincture of iodine, then putting clean, white socks on her feet, and replacing the boots. I never let her bare hoof hit the ground during this time.

Tuesday the donkeys were exploring the pasture, as the snow and ice retreated. When I went out to do evening chores I found that one of Sarah's boots was missing. Her foot, which I have been keeping pristinely clean, was encased in a ball of mud as big as my head. I groaned, and then went on a hunt. I finally found her boot and her little sock, nearly buried in deep muck by the well head. I got it cleaned off, then chipped the mud off her wee foot. I cleaned and medicated her hoof, put a clean cotton sock over it, and put her expensive boot back on.  The next day the farrier was coming, and I figured he'd think I was slacking when he saw the mud residue on her foot, but instead he gave me a wonderful report.  "I'd say her hooves are healing 50% faster than I would expect." I almost did a little happy dance, wearing my $50 muck boots, right there in the wet pasture.

In this picture you see... chicken.  The top is grocery store bird, the bottom is breasts of chicken I hauled out of the freezer; home raised poultry. I find the comparison to be fascinating... the home raised birds have flesh that is so much more rosy. Next month a new flock of meat chicks will arrive, and will grow in our pasture, scratching in the dirt, taking dust baths, and growing, Growing, GROWING.

This week I was invited to a Mad Hatters Tea by a woman who used to be a customer, until her dogs went to the great beyond. But we are still friends. The invitation said I was to bring hilarity and haberdashery. I'm not much of a hat person, but I rose to the occasion. With help from Chris, who surprised me with a funny top hat from the party store. I used some creativity and made it my own.

The party was rife with finger sandwiches, tea (of course!) and delicious sweets.

Each fancy water glass had a tag...

There were tarts, eclairs and cupcakes. Every single thing delicious.

Meanwhile, the days grow longer, the song from the brook up the road roars more loudly, and spring takes baby steps away from the long Maine winter.