March

It's kind of a pun; I like to write about my boys in the Army. But this is about the month of March. Or, as we call it here in NE IL, the month of Mud.
This is the month when spring really begins; today, for example, the sun is warm and the breeze is, too. The ground is still covered in white stuff, but it'll melt. And then will come the mud.
Brown, sticky mud. Black, slippery mud. Black and brown mixed with gravel mud. Wet mud. Slimy mud. Mud on boots and jeans and coats and even hats. Kids will head out to ride bikes on a warm day and come back with a splatter of mud right up their backs, where the bike tires adorned them. Dogs will be washed and dried and let out and washed and dried and let out and washed and dried and.... Goats and cattle will be covered in the stuff. And my floors. Oh, my poor floors.
On the other hand, the chickens are venturing out. They will not walk on snow. Absolutely will not. As it melts away from the door of the coop, they take a few steps out. Then a few more. Pretty soon they're cackling and crowing and it sounds like a farm again. Warm days are like that.
We'll be hit again with a patch of cold, and maybe even some snow. But the warm is on the way. And the mud.

This Just In: The terriers have headed for the hills again. Stay tuned.

This Just In: Regardless of what Blogger tells you, the little stinkers left at 10am. They returned at 6pm. Carry on.