The roosters declare it so, having turned our backyard into a set for a chicken porno.
The ewes, so laden with swollen bellies, can’t even be bothered to greet me when I visit, so busy are they with their gestating. They look, to my inexperienced eyes, about ready to pop. Sylvia, shown above in the middle, has adopted a dramatic waddle when walking. I can’t imagine she’s too far from lambing.
A newly-hung Homestead Project board is filling up by the minute, as I lasso one by one the whirlwind of must-do projects and wrangle them into some kind of manageable format.
My bathroom is carpeted in tender green sprouts.
The snow is almost completely melted, save for that patch way out, or the one over there. The heat is off more than on, the clothesline saw its first load of laundry hanging from it in months, and our driveway looks like we held a tractor pull in it, all rutted and muddy. This just added to the Project board: add gravel. The cranes, having returned weeks ago, are back into the swing of things, flying by with much grace and regularity. I’ve even spied a pair mating from afar, so attuned are my eyes to the copulating stance of birds these days. And last night, Simply Folk was interrupted by a severe weather warning for a distant county. I’m hoping the weather radio will be far less active this year.
Spring is welcomed with much enthusiasm, to be sure, even if my head threatens to spin right off with all the busyness.