The days are getting longer, and the sun is getting stronger.
The hay stacks are growing small.
The dogs quit eating their dog food but still get fat eating at the barn on cow afterbirth.
"Did the calf suck?" is the question of the day.
The bird feeders are always empty.
Everyone is hungrier.
Cats are nesting in the straw piles.
The skunks are out.
Pitchforks, straw, and the wheel barrow magically appear at the barn. Can you say "muck."
(So far) I'm wearing my cowgirl boots more than my Boggs.
I think about eating fresh garden lettuce and radishes even though they are at least couple months away.
I keep looking for and listening for the meadowlark.
I see four mountain bluebirds on the fenceline in the morning. They're just passing through.
The pasture is showing a light tinge of green with a few shoots of new grass amidst the old, dry grass.
I find tips of hyacinths and tulips barely pushing through the ground on the south side of the house.
One by one, meadowlarks, geese, horned larks, and other birds begin to arrive. No robins yet.
I attempt drying sheets on the line, but bring them in to finish drying, hanging them over chairs.
There's a chance of snow headed our way.
I start thinking about sitting in the sun painting my toes. It's still just a thought.
I want to embroider bunnies and flowers.