Wild Onions
April 11, 2015
My sheep were sold last summer, so my fields are void of baby lambs this spring. I do miss the soft bleats on the wind. I am sure to miss the bouncy babies playing in the pastures. The mothers calling their offspring is also only heard in my memory. It rings bittersweet in my head. I will indeed miss the youngsters, but not lambing time right on the heels of maple syrup season.
I look for other signs of spring. Wild onions growing in the leaf litter of the woods, daffodils blooming in the sun and buds on the trees. The grass is starting to green up. The cattle snip green shots of the new grass. The eat it anywhere they find it. Their manure shows that they found plenty of it 😮
Spring has sprung. The peepers are singing much of the night. The spelt is bright green and growing in the fields. The compost pile steams steadily as the red wing black birds fly about. Garden seeds wait to be planted and the strawberry beds start to wake up. Soon the hot summer sun will bake us in our skin, but for now it kisses the grass like a mother ewe nurturing her baby lambs.
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