by Pa Rock
Farmer on the Cusp of Spring
I awakened shortly after midnight last night to one of the fiercest windstorms of recent memory and knew that - yes - March was coming in like a lion. His roars were magnificent and harrowing as the many wind chimes on my front porch - just outside of my bedroom window - clanged in abject pain and sounded as if they were preparing to take flight. I could only imagine what the dozens of trees that adorn my little farm would look like when daylight finally broke. The limbs that I had been dragging to the brush piles over the past few unseasonably warm weeks would surely have been replaced with new ones freshly ripped from their host trees.
And if one of the big, glorious pines did not blow over onto my house or car, well, that would be worthy of a visit to church even before Easter. With Fat Tuesday barely in the rear view, there would even still be time to give something up to repay the kindness of the sudden gale.
My good friend says that he has given up Trump for Lent. If only it were that easy - I would gladly give up Trump, Pence, Ryan, McConnell, and every other greedy and hateful fecal stain on the beautiful and very diverse fabric of America.
Daylight has come and a quick inventory of the farm suggests that all of the trees withstood the roaring entry of March pretty much in tact. When I go into town in a couple of hours I will see if my neighbors were as fortunate. There is still a strong breeze blowing across the hills and hollows.
Much of February was warm and beautiful. I managed to start getting my garden set up, raked leaves into the fenced-in garden area, lugged some rocks to the rock piles, and grew the brush piles to where they look, from a distance, like thatched English cottages. The daffodils and narcissus are up and starting to bloom, and many of the tulips are peeking through the thawing ground. February was so warm that I managed to surpass the 10,000-steps mark on fifteen of the twenty-eight days of the month. (I had no 10,000 days in December, and only one in January. Nice weather makes all the difference!)
But, nice Februaries or not, this March roared in like a lion - and one can only hope that it will exit peacefully in a little over four weeks, like a lamb.
Farmer on the Cusp of Spring
I awakened shortly after midnight last night to one of the fiercest windstorms of recent memory and knew that - yes - March was coming in like a lion. His roars were magnificent and harrowing as the many wind chimes on my front porch - just outside of my bedroom window - clanged in abject pain and sounded as if they were preparing to take flight. I could only imagine what the dozens of trees that adorn my little farm would look like when daylight finally broke. The limbs that I had been dragging to the brush piles over the past few unseasonably warm weeks would surely have been replaced with new ones freshly ripped from their host trees.
And if one of the big, glorious pines did not blow over onto my house or car, well, that would be worthy of a visit to church even before Easter. With Fat Tuesday barely in the rear view, there would even still be time to give something up to repay the kindness of the sudden gale.
My good friend says that he has given up Trump for Lent. If only it were that easy - I would gladly give up Trump, Pence, Ryan, McConnell, and every other greedy and hateful fecal stain on the beautiful and very diverse fabric of America.
Daylight has come and a quick inventory of the farm suggests that all of the trees withstood the roaring entry of March pretty much in tact. When I go into town in a couple of hours I will see if my neighbors were as fortunate. There is still a strong breeze blowing across the hills and hollows.
Much of February was warm and beautiful. I managed to start getting my garden set up, raked leaves into the fenced-in garden area, lugged some rocks to the rock piles, and grew the brush piles to where they look, from a distance, like thatched English cottages. The daffodils and narcissus are up and starting to bloom, and many of the tulips are peeking through the thawing ground. February was so warm that I managed to surpass the 10,000-steps mark on fifteen of the twenty-eight days of the month. (I had no 10,000 days in December, and only one in January. Nice weather makes all the difference!)
But, nice Februaries or not, this March roared in like a lion - and one can only hope that it will exit peacefully in a little over four weeks, like a lamb.
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