Every day here in Oklahoma we are seeing unmistakable signs of springtime. The new growth and pops of brights pinks and yellows, of course, but more than that. Stronger signals here at the farm, and they are echoing in my heart.
Our hens are becoming possessive of their eggs. It’s so fun. For many weeks now, the daily count has been holding steady at around eleven, but twice recently I was pecked and complained at for making that collection. And judging from the roosters’ songs, they too have the idea that babies would be a pretty fantastic goal.
Our two horses are shedding in earnest, suddenly. I noticed some shed a few weeks ago, before that ice storm, but they grew fuzzy again, and I have to admit, that brief and light fuzz loss could have been from brushing. What I am seeing now is unprovoked. And voluminous. Also, Chanta and Dusty can often be found with full bellies in the full sun, napping in the middle field. The siesta hours are sacred to them, and I plan to join them in this habit soon.
Meh is less of a napper, for sure; so how he tells me it’s springtime is by swimming in the pond more often. And if Klaus is outside with me and catches sight of this, I am soon greeted by a dripping wet and very muddy but very happy Shepp. He chases that llama like it’s his job. And if he has to suffer through a pond romp, then so be it.
I have barely started planting cool-season flowers in the house gardens and have been cleaning and trimming back everything everywhere else. That can be done too early, I suppose; but it’s not too early and I will prove it. Today I slipped off my denim work gloves and sifted the loose earth with my bare hands. It was warm and silky, almost moist with the perfect amount of crumble. I felt three plump earthworms wriggle quickly through the stuff, thread through my fingers, and race back to the shadows. Springtime.
Following the much-debated Daylight Savings Sunday, this work week has been extra beautiful with so many late sunsets. Two nights in a row Handsome and I have gone to bed early and in the Apartment instead of our bedroom, just so we could watch the very edge of dusk collapse over the pond. Then from our vantage there, we can see the stars take over the sky and enjoy the undulating sandy hills washed in moonlight.
We have actually heard frog song already. And so many birds, every day.
Finally, say you want about Bradford Pear trees, but the grove next door in front of the Pine Forest is in full solid white bloom right now, and our honeybees are obsessed. I walked there yesterday to collect branches, and the collective hum and buzz sounded amplified.
Next Wednesday is the official start of springtime. And our nights could become frosty for several more weeks, still.
But I am happy. All of these beautiful details are sure signs to me, of abundant Love and fresh energy. We are surrounded by trustworthy reminders that new life always takes over, no matter how hard and bitter the dead times have been.
I’ll take it slow and easy and let it all unfold with some delicacy. A measure of patience. It’s not my design, after all, nor my plan, just my paradise to enjoy and tend.
I’ll let the Oklahoma winds blow away fear and regret along with the dead oak leaves.
A handful of pleasures every day. And miracles right around the corner.
All of this beauty already, and soon, day by day, we will be tasting the air a bit differently. Everything will be new again.