Roof shadows lean on the barn siding, poured across gravel and snowfield by the porch light.
Sad ghosts of frozen water buckets dot slumping snowbanks, mere skeletons of robust ice blocks that had to be half-thawed before they could be banged out of the buckets. But for the coming storm they would have been gone, exorcised by the howling wind and sometimes apricity of the late winter season. A new word for me this year, but a welcome one full of love and promise. Soon the snow will cover those ghosts preserving them for the next round of sunshine.
A seething snake of a water hose snarls itself in the bathtub. Animals come first in the farm world and if you have to postpone your shower so the sheep can drink, well, too bad for you. They are thirsty.
Hoses and buckets are constant chores in winter no matter how warm and cozy the barns.
The East Wind is already getting frisky all these hours before sunup and storm-due. Best send the boss to town for extra milk and eggs.And soon.
A storm is coming.
But hark! Lo! On yonder street side, down in the village in TWO places yesterday, we saw the first sapcicles of the season. Snuggled up against the river there the maples are warm enough for the sap to begin to run. It's a sign. I know it is.
from Northview Diary http://bit.ly/2E5Vnjl
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