Wednesday

I watch the girls outside, moving across the farmette as they did before the frost and snow closed off their ramblings. They move in a pack, but not always. Each has her personality, her style. Butter is the brave one, the other white hen is the follower, Scotch is the loner -- many times walking off in her own direction. Is she happier keeping to the side of the pack? As the spring hawks return to circle the land, I worry about her the most. Who'll warn her of impending harm? Oreo? I don't think so. Oreo is protective when he is near them, but he has his disability and so he can't always be spot on in his assessments.





Life imitates Sinefeld. Maybe life imitates chicken ramblings too.

I have a rather complicated day today and so I am a woman of few words once more. I leave you with snapshots of a March day, where the sun is strong (strong enough to eat breakfast in the sun room)...





...and the snow continues to melt into the mushy soil.


I have a visit with Snowdrop:






And a drop-dead gorgeous walk with Snowdrop and her mom -- around the little lake again.






And there's more: I have a visit with old work friends, and then an unusual and special set of minutes where I poke into a school for a science fair and where Ed's most incredible design project (a mini C.N.C. milling machine) is being partially tested. By kids. Girls show enthusiasm too!






And then I pick up Snowdrop and bring her to the farmhouse for an evening with just me, as the parents have something scheduled and Ed is out playing volley ball tonight.

The poor girl tries to give me her best playful self, but it's late and she is tired.





She has had a full day. I have had a full day. No, let me correct that: a full, sunny and warm, beautiful spring day.