On the Farm Today

 This morning I thought, if you can't stand beside me, I can paint today for you to imagine. The sky was crystal clear blue, a light breeze tossed my hair every once in awhile, and the sun warmed my skin just enough. The temperature was smack in the middle of spring coolness (between 65 and 75) not hot or humid, which is my favorite kind of spring day. The grass fairly lept  off the land with bright green vivacity.  The air so fresh and clean, even though I know the pollen was thick because I can see it wafting across the front lawn from the forest when the wind blows.  The pollen lies in a light green layer on the table even on our screened in back porch.  I wipe it off each day, but it returns daily.  My little white Siamese kitten follows me around today, playing catch me if you can with any bug I unearth as I turn the soil in my planting beds.  The shovel makes a crunching noise as I slam it down into the dirt with my foot. As I move the soil around the deep smell of the rich earth makes me want to plant twice as much as I have planned. Bees of all sorts buzz around the farm, busy on their assigned tasks spreading pollen so flowers and fruit trees can produce beauty and delicious tasty treats for us.  The geese on the pond set up a racket, honking to call everyone to attention before they all take off seemingly simultaneously from the pond's surface.  As they pass overhead, they are so near me I can hear their wings flapping in a low whoosh, whoosh. Wondrous.  The sheep find tons of delicious green options from which to choose for food: pasture grass, clover, sticker bush leaves, Russian olive bush leaves, low creeping vines and tiny plants whose name I know not. Chaucer's wool is so perfect. I can't wait to spin it. The stream behind the pond tumbles over rocks, trickling lightly.  The barn swallows scold me for entering the barn while they are nest building. I think they are beautiful and I smile and sing them a song called "God's Beautiful World" from my childhood. Across the pasture at another house a child squeals in playtime delight. A squirrel tosses leaves around in search of last year's nuts.  Ketzal our small dog barks at two cats playing in the birch tree out front.  Ants scurry with purpose around the driveway.  The onions I saute for our evening meal are from the store, but I will plant this year's crop tomorrow in the upper orchard. The dew alights in evening as the farm falls to sleep.