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Winter has mellowed and the call of chores and a daily walk to the backwaters has been lovely. The crunching snow under warm boots is the sweet way of it. Moon has been so watchful and rejoices in the voices that sing nature’s triumphant blare. I am the richest person on Earth.

The vet van is slopped full of mud, gravel and is thawing into the lull of the warm afternoon sunshine. Odors permeate us as I come to a halt @ the neighborhood grocery store. The Pig employees politely place the pork chops and honey mustard in a stiff brown grocery bag and we’re back on the route. Tom stuffs tonite’s meat in our lunch cooler and the world resumes for I have the cherished mustard. Tom has switched to an empty super sized French’s mustard bottle for a lubrication holder to be utilized on the vet route for calvings.

Pheasant resides @ the end of our driveway and is a vibrant male. He’s strutting along the grader ditch consuming sandy grit.

Turkeys are abundant and can be found on the snow covered fields or cutting across the road as I’m heading out to Waumandee.

Canadian Geese formed 3 lazy formations as they honked their return last week.  They circled around Big Bend and headed towards Arcadia. Bluebirds and Robins have also returned and Tom saw them in the weeping willow tree by the Shack.

I’ve delighted in hearing Hawken asking, “Mama’s going to the backwaters. I’m going too!” The scraping of the blue plastic sled on the bare sandy road could be heard for miles. I pulled hard to get past the wet puddles that entice a young puddler. I told him to crawl through the cattle bunk and load up in the sled. He sat down and I pulled him through frozen cow patties and cattle entranced by the activity. “Mama, it’s kinda bumpy in the cowpoop.” I laugh and tell him to hang on and we’re soon on top of the bright reflecting snow with his sled.  “Mama March! ” I’m flying the child across the cornstalk stubble and put all our troubles in a bubble and we blow them away as we march into the month of March.

Where’s your place to sled as you slide into March?

Feel the Spirit in Peace and Love,

Sue Roskos