Winter Rain

It's been pouring since yesterday and since the ground is probably a bit frozen (though maybe not--it's been quite mild recently) there are streams and puddles forming everywhere. The boys are encased in mud and their paddock is a rather noisome bog. While everywhere else in the country there are generally four seasons, on the farm there is a fifth, called Mud, that can appear anywhere from November to April. It's always hard for me to believe that people actually wear shoes in the house, but in this season particularly it is awful to contemplate. I suppose I am glad right now that I don't have a dog!

No doubt this is the January Thaw and soon we will be back to the normal cold, which always feels much worse given a reprieve. I guess it would be folly to imagine we are finished with the really frigid temperatures. There are things I should have done given the recent warm period (like protect more of the trees and shrubs) but as usual I didn't get to them.

This is rather a boring post. What can I talk about that is more interesting? The fact that Trisha laid an egg in Levi's stall, thinking that the uneaten hay created a nice nest? It turned out not to be a good idea. The chickens have been laying in the hay bales and since the supply is dwindling the nest areas have become fewer. I am sad to be almost finished with our hay. When I sniff it I recall the summer, with all its fragrance and sound of insects, profusion and color. Winter is a season at the drab end of the palette: Yellow Ochre, Burnt Siena, Payne's Gray. Maybe a wash of Cerulean here and there. My eyes are starved.