Kim and I do not celebrate Valentine's day, we never have. It's not really a political statement, just a choice we have made. For a partnership like ours to work, we have to shower each other with kind thoughts and sweet sentiments all year. It makes the hard days easier not to save up your romantic gestures once a year. Of course, romance to us may be a little different, there is nothing like your partner offering to scrape rabbit cages or lock up the hens at dusk in my book. No judgement on those who do celebrate, its just a choice for us.
Truly though, the best gift either of us could recieve at this point would be from the love of the universe, an ease in the winter weather. We respect the seasons, and know the value of snowfall and cold. But boy, have our shovels and wood bins been heavy. We are ready for the thaw and mud, for seed and chicks.
The greenhouse is a tiny window into seasons changing. So far, despite wind, sub zero temps, feet of snow and low light- we have salad greens hanging on. They arent growing tall, granted...but the slightest shift of weather may bring that. Amonst the rubble of pots and summer storage is a small pen, with 4 tender lambs. They have taken residence there under our watchful eyes and for bottle feeding convenience. The greenhouse, attached to our kitchen has windows that overlook the lambs, who bleet the second they hear you, hungry or not. Few things say spring much like lambs, I picture them bounding them through that bright, lime green early grass. In that fantasy the farm is free from its storm debris and the hen house has been cleaned. The rabbit cages are spotless, the goats' pasture is restrung. New chicken coops are built and painted and new piglets are lounging in the sun, winter pigs now residing in the freezer.
There is wisdom in not rushing seasons, finding the beauty even in your exhaustion and exasperation. All things are temporary. But tonight I'm day dreaming for the changes of spring, for winter's demise. I love the cold and snow but feel like a child who has had too much dessert... sick with the sweet confines of winter's work.