what'll it be like?

My mother tells me (on the phone, from Berkeley) – you better not have early morning classes. How can you dig yourself out of your farmhouse on time when the snows come next winter??

Ed tells me – I think there’s room for the box elder beetles to come into the farmhouse, even with the new screens up on the windows.

Eh. I continue. That’s what happens when you feel the squeeze of nay-sayers: you learn to not listen. Or shrug your shoulders. Or something.


I stop by the farmhouse on my way to class. The warm Sunday has really pushed everything forward at an accelerated rate. The huge willows on the farmette are buoyant and flecked in leaf buds...







The patch of planted lilies and daffodils (and as of today – of parsley, chives and mint) is speckled with new growth.





Yes, it’s lovely and lively out there, on the farm. I can’t think about beetles and snowstorms now. Too much going on at the moment. Can’t worry beyond this month.