The calender boasts that today is the first day of spring.
I woke to hear what sounded like rain pattering against the widows. Stepping out into the murky dawn light I discovered that what was falling from the sky was a mix of rain and snow, icily dripping down my collar.
The way to the pasture and coop is treacherously icy. Old, dirty snow clings tight to the earth. I walk in tiny, careful, measured steps,head down, choosing my footing with care. I make multiple trips, carrying piles of hay, 5 gallon jugs of warm water, scoops of grain and seed. The animals are glad to see me. The horse nickers her greeting and paws the ground, encouraging me to hurry. The goats call, "Maaa!" before cramming their heads into the feed bucket to taste breakfast.
The dogs take care of outdoor business quickly and head back in to the pad by the fire. I'm settled by the wood stove, myself, having a glass of fresh milk and a slice of toast, planning my day. Spring will come, I'm sure of it, winter still has me in his grip.
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