It’s
nearly---officially---spring! Tree branches swell with bud, and it won’t be
long before my flowering plums begin to flower, unable to restrain themselves
any longer. Already the warmer areas of the valley are showing color and I’m
optimistic that a few warm days this week will do the trick here.
Robins
wallow and splash in puddles, enthusiastic hedonists of the bath. My cats sit
for hours in the window, watching and salivating and planning their next BBQ.
They aren’t quite so brave when it comes to the neighbor’s chickens. In fact,
if the chickens are out, pecking and scratching under my hedge, the cats are
most decidedly IN. Chickens, it seems, are monsters to be avoided at all costs.
The same cat that I once caught stalking a heard of elk is the same cat that
now cowers up against the door, begging to be let in if the chickens from next
door have wandered over.
The
world is born anew in the spring, everything dresses up in fresh green finery
with a be-dazzle of flower or blossom. It is a great time to get outdoors and
spend a little time with Mother Nature. Heaven knows I have enough chores to
keep me busy.
There
are the usual seasonal chores of removing any dead debris, sticks and leaves
and the like, that have accumulated over the winter. Now is a good time to do
any early weeding that is required and to apply chicken poop--preferably the
composted kind, not the kind fresh from the chicken, thank you very much any
way, neighbor’s chickens, but I’ll pass—to the flower beds. I have a theory
that if you just don’t feel like doing the weeding first and apply the chicken
poo on top of the weeds ---I’m not advocating this, I’m just saying. That I may
have done it. Once or twice. Or possibly more---Anyway. Should you find that
you’ve ACCIDENTALLY forgotten to weed and have already spread the poo, you can
comfort yourself with the belief that even the most tenacious of weeds will
become fat and lazy and easy to pull if they’re fed such a rich diet.
That’s
my story anyway, and I’m sticking to it.
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