Tuesday

Spring often arrives with a tempting palate of nice days and then it goes back to being as it should be in the early stages of the season: wet and cold. Therefore, as expected, we are entering a string of wet and cold days. Since we did not have any heavy snowfall this winter, rain now is a good thing. Our plants need the slow trickle of water. The soil will soften, the cleansing of a winter garden will begin. Still, when I go out to feed the animals, I put on my winter jacket and zip it up to my chin, just to keep out the chill.

Judging by the absence of daffodil tips now, I'd say we are a good two weeks behind the season as it presented itself in the last handful of years. But there's reason to feel hope. This morning, I saw the first farmette flower bud. It's a snowdrop (unless it's a crocus, but I vote snowdrop).

Soon it will joined by all the bulbs that are just about ready to burst out of hiding. For now though, we have to be satisfied with store bought flowers. Daffodils, for example, are abundantly available and are always the cheapest blooms in the buckets. Lovely to the core!

It's a Snowdrop pickup day today, but I don't bring her to the farmhouse immediately. We sidestep to a shoe store. I'm on the lookout for good walking shoes that she will actually like and wear. (Right now, she lives in her Skechers. All good, but she needs a backup plan.) Is she excited about the store detour? She is not. Bribes are offered. She goes along. But in her usual way, once there, she gets excited.

Is there a pair of shoes she likes? Nope. The sales clerk insists that she up her size to give room for growth, but Snowdrop likes things snug, unless it's a dress, in which case only loose will do. So, we wave a friendly goodbye and head home.

At the farmhouse, it's our comfortable usual. Read, play, eat. Actually, a lot of all three.  Everything about her visit here today is low key. Everything. (She has liked Olivia books since she was two or three. That's fine, I like them too.)

In the evening, I return her home. It's a predinner wind-down moment...

And then I come back to bake a frittata at the farmhouse. As I come in, I comment on the nastiness of the icy cold rain outside. Oh, but it's so warm and cozy in here! -- Ed reminds me.

And it is. But I do light a candle to add an extra layer of coziness as the rain pelts against the window. Maybe a faint spring scent of wild rose and ferns?  Plants that love just this kind of steady drizzle that seems without a beginning or an end.