I heard a faintly familiar sound as I approached the front door to let the lambs out. A swooshing and cleansing sound. The sound of rain. Of Spring rain. The shivering breath I had held all winter was released in a single, thankful exhale. We made it to spring. We made it through our first winter in this 1905 homestead. We made it through the thirty-five degree bathroom, we made it snuggled up with cats, and with six layers of clothes on. We are entering springtime on the homestead. It is beautiful.
The rain washes the porches and my clothes on the line clean. The trees are drinking in giant gulps and spreading their arms after their long winter nap. Bits of green spreads like fingers across the prairie floor. The meadowlark sings. The robin searches for worms. The birds are home for spring. My gardens await and I have much work to do. A fresh start and half an acre to prepare in the next few weeks.
Baby season is upon us and the lambs warm our hearts and laps. The goats are getting large with child. The world and I are waking up.
Welcome Spring. You are our blessed guest.