Last Wednesday, when Gary and I were building the deck, I kept looking out at my land. It was the first day I’d seen the fields clear of snow since November. They were brown, sodden, and ugly, but to my eye, they were dear, and their reappearance made me happy. (I always remember my late mother saying affectionately, “You have dirt in your blood.”)
Our first robins returned March 29 this year, the red-winged blackbirds a few days later. Despite several snowstorms since then, we’ve been on a slow warming trend.
On Friday afternoon I picked up 50 lilac seedlings, their buds tender green, from the county Soil and Water Conservation Service for a hedgerow. A few hours later, at evening chores, I heard bull frogs calling for the first time in the farm pond. That night we had a hard rain which melted our last ragged scarves of snow in the woods, and DH came in from outside, streaming water, to announce that the school frogs, too, were now awake and calling.
All of which made Saturday’s high winds and blowing snow extremely dispiriting. It was 19° F this morning. Tonight it is supposed to drop to 13° F.
I remind myself that all this is good for the maple sugarers, but I am sick of cold.