spring

Finally. All that we feel now -- that great swell of hope, of growth, of new potential, that warm air and the pleasure of stepping out without a second thought and without a wrap -- it's all here and it looks as if it's here to stay.

It was a supremely busy day for me: weekly food shopping, errands, haircuts, more errands. Then there was the cat. And new travails surrounding the young chickens. And too, there was Snowdrop -- inside, outside, out and about -- all this filled every spare minute of the day.

Oh, but what a day it was! Let's take a look at it, together.

Breakfast. It's very early. Ed has conference calls scheduled for hours that we normally regard as dozy time. And as always, I want to eat our morning meal before he and I lose ourselves to the day's events.







All this early this and early that means that I am done with errands early. The sun is just hitting its noon peak when I settle in to do some writing.

It is not to be. The cat comes calling.







We are still debating as to whether she is a feral or a wandering kitty that belongs to some household down the road. We think the former. She is a hungry girl.

She is beginning to trust us some. I'll come within a couple of feet of her to put the dish of cat food down. She no longer runs away. (Is she a femal cat? I'm guessing yes. There is an absence of assertiveness about her. We wonder how she survived the winter. She seems so terribly calm about life.)

The day warms to a delightful 60F (15C). Ed sheds his jacket and stays in shorts all day long. Here he is, rebuilding the teepee for my climbing vines.







And now I bring Snowdrop to the farmette. No way will she go inside! In my absence, Ed had taken out the little play fence I had once acquired (and then never used) for toddler watching purposes. Next, out come some old screens to create a roof. Finally -- the three young hens are placed inside for their first outdoor fling.

He brings out their food. Snowdrop helps him at every turn.






It's funny -- had he asked me if I thought this outdoor time for the chicks was a good idea, I would have said no. They are not even five weeks old. There are still patches of snow outside. No! Too young!

At the same time, they're getting restless indoors. You may think that they're contained and thus innocuous in the huge cardboard box, but they are so active, that wood dust and dander fly every which way when they scamper about. I no longer want to eat breakfast in the sun room. It's too full of chicken life!

Needless to say, Ed's idea is a good one. The three young girls love their time with real soil. They peck at it, scratch it and bathe in it to their hearts content.






And Snowdrop? The weather unfurled her imagination to new heights. She finds sticks for us all and proposes that we draw "decorations in the snow."













When Ed protests that he doesn't know what decorations to draw, she suggests that he "use his imagination." (I have to think she picked that up from one of her teachers.)






It is a glorious hour of play!











I drive the little one home then, in part because I have another errand to do in her neighborhood (where there is a lovely children's store). My tiny shopping expedition is productive and I am especially happy to see how welcoming the sales clerk is of Snowdrop. I mean, I get it: small stores have to compete with online shopping. They need to make it worth your while to head out to their own retail space. Nonetheless, it is so pleasant when a store treats a young one with respect.





As the little girl explains that she is digging out weeds, the clerk comments -- she surely has a fertile imagination. Yes, of this there can be no doubt.

(Back at her house, she discovers that the play computer knows her name. She is flabbergasted. Or amused. Or both.)




Beautiful afternoon. With so many more just in front of us. Welcome to spring!