take that

A thaw came today. The real deal. Fifty degrees of slush and sunshine. You actually see parts of my driveway. I was outside tonight with Jazz and Annie on a short walk and the stream that runs through my property was roaring (if a stream can roar) and the sound was spring. I stood out there and closed my eyes. Poetry, that rambling. Mixed in with that gurgling percussion was the soft hools of a Great Horned Owl in the high trees. I turned around to look at the house. It looked tired. Stains from the old furnace pipe on the front, leaves and ice stuck to the sides. It looked like a panting version of the proud white house that shone like a lighthouse on the green mountain all summer. Yet she was still there, and realize that we had almost made it though our first winter here, this pack of four. Gibson was on the steamer chest in the window, sitting on s sheepskin and watching us. A light was on upstairs in my office. It was on because I forgot to shut it off when I was watering the snap pea: but it was also on because somehow through all the furnace drama, snow plows, heating bills, and mortgage payments I managed to keep paying the electric bill. Same goes for the internet, groceries, and gas in the truck. Such modest accomplishments, but I felt like a domestic superhero. This place is making it. We're not eating Lobster dinners or keeping the heat above 64 degrees—but we are making it. And who needs 64-degrees of luxury when it's 34 degrees outside after dark!? Do you know how long it's been since we had a night above freezing?! I was floating out there among the exposed mines of dog poo from a winter of snow cover. Beaming. Hell, I didn't even have a jacket on.

I needed that breather. Today was a rough day. For no particular reason it had me languid. If anything I should have felt great. I started working out again this week, eating better, and even managed to run a mile in the gym yesterday. I had my annual review at work, (and I'm still working). All flags were at full mast, but I was just dogging it. Maybe the barometer gymnastics had me wonky.

But some time to slow down, breathe deep, and come home to a banjo and three smiling dogs was all I needed. Throw a thaw on top of that sundae and you've got yourself a farmer crouching to pounce on that defrosted soil. Soon there will be potatoes, peas, lettuce and more in it. Soon lambs will be running across the fence lines in little gangs of lost boys. And soon I'll be running again across the back roads of Washington County under a blazing summer sun. It just takes me a little time to recharge to see all that. Tonight I got it. I might even get 6 hours of sleep tonight.

Take that, winter.

Tomorrow my sister and her husband are coming up to visit the farm. We'll spend some time just enjoying the hill here, and we'll get to work the Farmer's Market table together in Bennington this weekend. It's my second market appearance, and I'll be hoping to sell some yarn and books. Wish the rookie some luck out there. I never turn it down.