Today was the first day of spring. I would show you proof, but I can’t upload pictures just now, so you will have to take my word for it. Yesterday we woke to clouds and ice. Today we woke to sun and thaw. The seven-day weather forecast predicts day after day of thaw and thaw and thaw. I can almost smell the dandelions.
Today was not winter, so we did not go to the library and the donut shop in the morning. Instead Reed and I walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk and along the river and up the bridge. Geese flew overhead, buckets and buckets of geese, and every time, Reed would turn his head to the sky and watch them a while. “Birs.” I like when Reed turns his head to the sky. It is something he does often, especially when he feels a sense of restfulness and contentment. I don’t know many people so fond of such things. It reminds me of my father, who always seems to find a place outside to lie down and look up.
Yesterday, the last day of winter, Reed’s fingers were licked by a sweet calf with just-budding horns. What a joy it is to be fed by the place you live. What a joy it is to have the farmers that feed you know the name of your son. And to recall how muddy it is to be livestock in March and watch a calf lick your child’s baby fingers and have the sweet smell of a muddy barn in your nose all night.
Happy spring, friends,