Early Spring

We have had an unusually warm winter. Temperatures this week in Kansas will reach 80 degrees. The plants, trees, weeds, and birds at our place have no doubt about the season. The pear trees are crowned in white. Forsythias are highlighted in yellow. My peach trees are leafing out and I worry about a late killing frost. Small reconnaissance parties of red robins hop around the yard conducting a census of earthworms, grubs, and insects for the folks back in Florida. The red wing black birds queue up on the fence post nattering about their winter carnival as the white crowned sparrows plan their voyage north. The cardinals have taken their posts, haling one another in the early morning across wheat fields and woodlots. Plovers, also called killdeer, skitter across the pasture piping their high-pitched calls. They always seem rather nervous to me, sounding alarums at the most non-threatening pilgrim. I only await the scissor-tailed flycatcher.
All last weekend fleets of motorcycles whizzed up and down the interstate highways.
This past week we cleaned out our hen house and set up a small stall for new chicks. We put down fresh bedding material, bought chick starter feed and a new water feeder. The heating lamp was tested and found to be in good working order. Six chicks came home with us on Saturday: silver laced Wyandottes, brown leghorns, and California whites. This morning two were dead and the other four were gone. From the scat on the floor I think it was a skunk. We ordered new ones this afternoon. They are sent by U.S. mail to our farm and feed store. They should be in on April 6th.
Christopher and I set out new fence posts for the vegetable garden and strawberry patch. I hope to get the fencing up tomorrow, in time to plant lettuce, spinach, and peas before the next spring showers that will hopefully come the later part of the week. Christopher had also built a rain harvesting system out of 55 gallon barrels. With the last brief rain we collected 275 gallons of water. We will attach soaker hoses to them when we need to water the gardens.
Life re-emerges in bud, chick, and work. Seasons do not so much change as they merge and meld into today and tomorrow. Seasons do not change like overcoats. They blend with the power of youth and death. As far as we human beings know this is the eternal process. For me it is a sacred process. I never cease to be filled with wonder at the scent of pine bedding and wet earth, the body odor of man sweat and horses, the aroma of freshly baked bread and musk.