every day is a good day
“Live as if today is the last day of your life,” goes the saying. At times you wish it was the last day. What to make of the frequent snows when I want to be planting in the garden? What if today’s snow was the last of my life? What if after today I could no longer see the morning sun make the snowy fields sparkle?
Or see sweet daphne buds poking out through the snow?
Or smile at long blades of grass bending under the snow?
Or feel the cold snow between my toes? What if indeed.
Oh Spring, where art thou? It’s an oft repeated cry this February. I should be out weeding and planting and … and … and, but this morning all I can do is be delighted by the beautiful snow. There are years when it never snows. The pruned pear trees look lovely. The dogs are having fun. The rosemary is crushed, but it will rebound. There is no mistaking where the fence is. The bench by the pond has a soft cushion to sit on. The chickens are laying eggs. The witch hazel is still fragrant. It bends easily underneath the heavy snow and springs back at the slightest touch. And Takuma is chomping away at the dried lovage stems. How could I possibly be sad?
Is it love? Russell and Kumo-Hime 雲姫 spend a lot of time together. I’m not sure who has the thing for the other. She must like him, or she wouldn’t encourage him to hang around. It must be love.
At the end of winter, the bright yellow squash of late summer has turned to camouflage. I stopped to take a picture of pumpkin seeds and didn’t see the squash at first. The pumpkin has turned into a splattering of seeds. They are all that are left of a plump pumpkin which would have made a good pie. Why the squirrels, chipmunks, and birds haven’t absconded with all the seeds is a mystery.
When spring and winter dance, towering clouds leap over the mountains, dragging curtains of snow through the tree tops. These dances are so ephemeral that if you are driving, you have to pull over to the side of the road to stop to enjoy them.
When Sven spreads his wings, his white feathers explode. Which is why he does it. Any hen who is anywhere will see him, even it is just out of the corner of her eye. Roosters are the drag queens of the chicken world. Anytime is showtime, any hen is an audience. There is only shame in not displaying your beauty.
Today’s sullen morning skies tugged with today’s blue afternoon skies. Each day now is a tug between winter and spring. Will it be winter today or spring?
The daylily and tulip shoots say it is spring. I’ll take their word for it.
The fuzzy camellia buds are a promise of better days to come. Why are they fuzzy? Do they need to stay warm? And today’s eggs, no two alike, from the one with the crinkled tip, to the tiny pullet egg, to Kuro-hime’s blue egg. May every one of your eggs be different.
