Wet

Rain drops on the arctic willow.

Last year was the wettest, coldest spring for Bindweed...this spring it is colder and wetter. Last spring we had an early warm spell teasing us into spring fever but this spring there has been little warming and we suffer from cabin fever.

Barn door through the wet willows.

We long to get out and work, but when there is a break in the wind and snow it rains. The fields are slick with mud and standing water. It feels like Ireland, I'm craving dark beer and soda bread. I want to sit in a pub, sing folk songs, write obscure poetry, talk in a west Cork accent--I think I'll just sleep all day.

Purple hyacinths

The river rises and rises. We see that some of the pylons have been removed, others have been repositioned to form a water barrier. We are near the river but on high ground and there is no danger of flooding, I remind myself of this when we see a pair of mallard ducks floating in a walk row. We try to stay positive, crack jokes, do inside work, reorganize the barn, but it sucks and we continue to slog through mud and wind.



Between showers we harvest as much as we can. I take joy in every scrap of color, eat it up hungrily, bring it inside and wait for the sun.

Daffodils, hyacinths, ranunculus and spurge.