Murmurings

Winter is the season when the Earth sleeps. We humans should make no mistake in our assessment of those stark branches of trees, brown prairie grasses, open soils. Nature is not dead. All of Creation seems to be taking a much needed slumber.

On the farm, we 3 humans are getting some much needed rest after a very intense year and prolific harvest besides. We believe it is the natural cycle for humans to want and need rest in the thick of winter. We are blessed with a schedule which is more in tune with Nature's cycles and accommodates our precious needed down time.

Underneath winter's paintbrush, murmurings of spring are beginning to arise. Seeds from 5 of the 7 companies have arrived. We know another is in the mail and the other we haven't heard from yet. Those little seed packs are now separated into 3 boxes according to who is taking the lead: Melanie's, Richard's, Glinda's. Stacks of books and magazines are higher than in the preceding months. Some are for pleasure and others are for our own research on growing plants, dreams and upcoming projects for the farm. We are also creating storage areas for canning jars in the basement and converting a closet into a pantry just off the kitchen. Such things should make us more ready for this next year of growing.

Today was a beautiful "bluebird day". The temperature was in the 50s with blue sky, wispy clouds, very little breeze. The sun has set and the chickens are now in. On these lovely days, the hennies and the roosters stay out until the last minute, like little children at play. Melanie called on alert. Scampy, her cat, was out and the Great Horned Owl was hooting. So we quickly headed out: the 3 humans and Ladd, the dog, in search of Scampy. From close by on the edge of the woods, we could hear the owl calling. Scampy was quickly located at the edge of the north woods and relocated into the house. We smiled and wondered about "June," the Great Horned Owl we observed last April who was eating June Bugs underneath the yard light. Overhead in the darkening sky, we could hear strings of geese honking to make contact on their flight.

During these days, we hear calls of songbirds who are beginning to tune up, almost like a symphony, for the spring's show. Perhaps it is the original symphony of which we have a bit part.

We are enjoying winter. At last, we are accepting winter. It has taken us a while. But now we are reveling in it. Spring will come and we hope it will not be too soon. Regardless, we too will be ready and excited for that next act of this grand play.