Springtime on a farm is wrapped in wonderment. The expectation this season brings loads up our hearts with hope until they fairly burst forth in song. The early chicks have hatched, our windowsill has turned green with the hope contained in sprouting seeds. There is a sense of promise in the air, even though the ground is buried in snow, and the garden still lays in contented slumber beneath her blanket of white.
A promise of our homestead springing to life. On the air floats the sweetness of this promise, the abounding hope, the tangible expectation.
We have trimmed the apple trees to prepare them for this season’s bounty. The chickens have finally ventured beyond their doorstep. The goat kids bounce happily in and out of the barn, always awaiting their next adventure . . . or bottle. And the greatest transformation, us, coming out of our winter hibernation into the promise of new life in this new season.
Hope and dreams unfold on paper with the garden planning well underway. There are no bugs, no weeds, no diseases. Utopia awaits!
Ah, spring. Sweet spring! My good friend, we meet again.