A fly, drunkenly buzzing on my window pane, distracts me as I look out my office window toward the barn. Joining the fly, I count four ladybugs bound and determined to get somewhere. They look like they’re on a mission, but for the life of me I don’t know where they’re going nor why. I’m only slightly annoyed that they’re there, for their industrious appearance in the warm sunny window indicates that our long-awaited spring has indeed sprung.
The other morning, I saw a flock of geese overhead and I paused, craning my head way back, watching and listening to their sweet cadence. It sounded heavenly. On the way into the house for breakfast I noticed a couple of fat robins, pecking and building. Even the little starlings seemed to be more industrious, twittering madly. All creatures are awakening from a long, grueling winter. Me, too! Inhaling deeply, I relished the hint of warmth and let the rich, earthy country air fill my lungs.
Previously that same morning, I was about to feed our outside heifers and as I had opened the shed door to the skidsteer I waited for a while, eavesdropping on toms gobbling down in the woods just beyond the cow yard, the sound echoing back up to me. The geese, birds and turkeys have their own unique songs of spring. The tempo, pulse and intonation of each of God’s creatures adds to the brilliance of the symphony.
The only thing that bothers me this time of year is our yard — a sloppy, jumbled mess of a yard — and for now, we squish as we walk to work. But when it comes right down to it, I’d rather squish than trek. Soon enough it’ll dry out.
Filling our silage bags in the summer and fall is so much less work to harvest our corn and hay in that manner, rather than filling the silos. There’s no leveling off as we near the top, no raising nor lowering of the silo unloader, no chopping off frozen silage on the walls in sub-zero degree weather.
The downside of bags filled with feed is this time of the year ruts develop as we go to and from, and it is quite challenging to get a full load of feed over to my heifers without losing some in the process. I have to maintain a steady rate with the skidsteer, not too slow or I may get stuck in a rut, not too fast or feed falls from the scoop. I can’t fill it too full for the same reason, so sometimes I have to make three trips instead of two to feed heifers.
Looking out my window there is a dull brown lawn staring me in the face with all manner of debris, including wood chips from our wood stove and, near the edges, lots of driveway gravel from my novice, first-year attempt at snowplowing. Now I discover I might have scraped a little too close.
During these past few tail-end months of a winter that wouldn’t end, I’ve been working on our daughter’s high school graduation party. I am a planner, needing to have my ducks in a row way yonder before necessary. It settles me when I make lists, cross off and know “that’s done.” So I’ve been working on picture displays, getting the scrapbook of newspapers clippings arranged, any awards received posted on tri-fold poster board, all organized while I have time. As soon as the fields clear and dry off, I’ll be on call for outside work and any indoor tasks will be placed on the back burner.
Another sign of spring is last-minute second looks at college campuses. I can’t think too far in the future or my mother’s heart starts hammering in that all-too-familiar way. Oh just typing that has made my computer screen go all blurry. One day at a time, Lord!
Drunken flies and industrious lady bugs, honking geese and gobbling toms, busy robins and partying starlings, sloppy yards and final college decisions: all signs that spring has sprung. Finally!
(“He covers the sky with clouds; He supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills. He provides food for the cattle and for the young ravens when they call.” Psalms 147:8-9. “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.” Psalms 150:6)
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