We spent the weekend with my parents in the house I grew up in.
They moved there when I was three months old - their first home. Their starter home that has gracefully transitioned into their retirement home. They say that they didn't buy a house - they bought the ducklings in the creek out back. (I think they paid $40 grand for it or something equally ridiculous. Probably close to what they just paid for their Prius. Yes, while much remains the same, change persists.)
There were no duckings the weekend, but we watched baby owls flap and feed in a big willow and listened to the coyotes yipping in the darkness. For being in the 'burbs it is an amazing place.
I could hear it from across the yard.
The steady drip.
drip - drip.
The sap drummed on the empty buckets as the first drips fell. The next day the kids fished out the sweet, tender ice and stood in the sunshine, nibbling it with muddy hands.
Sage pulled the buckets and waited patiently for a slow fill. Spring is most definitely worth waiting for.
We simmered the first pail full on the stove and watched as the magic worked this pail of watery sap down to a thick, amber syrup for our breakfast. Ahh, sweet spring. What's not to love?
We've been busy inside too.
knitting (see also Lu's green and blue hat in maple pictures above),
and grinding (eating) grains for bread.
Someday I'll build an outdoor bread oven so that we can kindle a wood fire and bake outside in the sunshine and fresh air. Today my plans are more simple. I just want to put my closeline up and welcome spring back with some crisp, sweet smelling bedsheets.
The snow was melting.
My children were getting naked and running for the door.
"Spring! Spring!", the sunshine cheered.
Winter boots? No! Rain boots? Yay!
"Spring!", we cheered. "Spring!"
(Being a sensible 2 1/2, she wore mittens.)
One blissful sunny afternoon. And then...
The poor buds - swollen full with enthusiasm for warmer days - were locked in an icy cage for days.
The sound of the frozen trees swaying stiffly in the wind was eerie, second only to booming ice in early winter for other-worldly nature sounds.
Spring will come again, I said. I clipped a branch from our flowering crab tree and brought it inside, still dressed in ice.
We placed it on our late-winter nature table to observe. We'll watch it bloom, perhaps with snow still piled up outside or door and remember that the seasons always change.
So the garden will wait while we warm up inside for another week or so. Or month. Or whatever. Indeed, the seasons will change. We'll be here (some of us naked), just waiting.
Wishing you a warm and wonderful week, despite winter hanging tight!
I can taste it.
These first days of March are such a gift, reminding us that yes, we have survived the depths of winter, and yes, spring will come again.
When it finally arrives, in all its muddy deliciousness, I am in my bliss.
Our house came complete with off-white wall-to-wall carpeting. We tried to rip it out, but found only sub-flooring beneath. Spring and its associated dirt/mud/sloppy gunk would be challenging to some considering our flooring limitations. I say - bring it on. I hate the carpet anyway, and one more stain just means one more reason to rip out out someday.
My kids frolic, lay, roll, sniff, massage, consume, and otherwise experience each season in its full glory. Spring and her mud are no exception. I am looking forward to spring's magic in our yard (and yes, even on our floors if it means we've made it through winter).
Hello there! I am Rachel Wolf. Lover of wild places, blogger, homesteader-in-training, unschooling mama, & owner of LüSa Organics. At home in the hills of the Driftless. Welcome!
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