Spring Report

Well, it feels good to be writing a blog post again! A lot has changed in the scenery around here since I last wrote; spring has fully sprung and we've had a few days that felt an awful lot like summer! Over the last couple days, it seems like every time I look out the window, things are a little more green and luscious.

No more do I have to look for a hint of green in the fields; now I have to look for any colors BESIDES green! And the grass doesn't look like a buzz cut anymore, but is getting shaggy and thick...ready for a haircut in a few weeks! Today when I went for my walk I was thrilled to see the blue sheen of the grass, rippling in the wind.

Birds abound in every tree and bush, their bright songs competing with the mellower woodwind tones of the frogs. Speaking of the frogs, they have developed their voices, and now have enough breath for long, droning notes, the perfect accompaniment for a summer night. I saw some of them today when I walked by the pond. Only usually I didn't see them until I heard a "plop!" and saw their hind legs pushing them into the murky depths. Dozens of "plop" sounds preceded my footsteps, and the noises became silent in that area, but the relatives on the other side of the pond kept up the tune bravely.

The trees are beginning to bud, and not being afflicted with pollen allergies, I am enjoying the dusky greenish yellow tint that is sweeping across the forest. Daffodils wave cheerily in the sunshine (I hope to get a picture of them soon), and add their fragrance to the air, which already smells gloriously like summer. It's really pretty impossible to describe what summer smells like, only that you know it when you smell it.

Even the cows know summer is on it's way! Tonight they were let out onto the grass for an hour or so, and one escape artist found a way into the open field of waving green grass. In no time all sixty cows were following her, and they charged into the grass, kicking up their heels and plowing into the tufts of growing hay. Full of high spirits, they refused to be herded sedately like usual, but darted from one side to another, getting just out of reach but no closer to the barn. Ominous clouds, shattered by golden sunlight, began to slowly drop great drops of rain as we worked to get them in. Only the cowdog, charging onto the field like he knew he was a hero, was finally able to get their attention. We couldn't blame them. It's awfully hard to wait for summer!