Every spring here feels like the long lost season, as in it never seems to arrive. Well after tulips, daffodils, and even fruit trees begin to blossom, Maine languishes in cold, gray mud. The sight of lined boots and parkas are enough to turn your stomach and even the animals look outside in the morning and think, 'Eh.'
But now, days away from May, it seems like—it feels like—spring may actually be here. It's fascinating to watch the tiniest blush of green move across a field. You really can watch the world around you green from one day to the next and some days hour by hour a field will be greener than it was when you woke. It's taken so long that we spend a whole day wandering around marveling over the tiniest new leaves on the lilac bushes, the extra millimeters of grass. When the daffodils do bloom, it's cause for a celebration.
This week we've begun leaving the lambs and ewes out on the dry nights, in part because the rain has been heavy enough that they've had to stay in for stretches of 24 to 48 hours. It's stressful for them, especially the ewes, whose babes are climbing the walls. The lambs are starting to gain independence; they're spending more time away from their mothers and less time with us. When we're out, they'll crowd around for some chin scratches, but they split after a few minutes to go climb rocks. So, it's a good time to give them some space to grow.