The seasons changing in New Hampshire never cease to amaze me.
Just a few short weeks ago, we were wearing polar fleece, wrapped in blankets while reading books, and carefully picking our way through the minefield that is the coop path. Everywhere were the white and gray remnants of a tired winter long over extending its stay.
Now we are wearing shorts, sweaters only when the sun goes down, and skip in delight to the call of the flock each morning.
oh look, there’s the path
We’re starting to let the girls roam in the yard (actually that’s a little backward, the girls are the ones who have decided to finally leave their winter pens) and eggs, glorious eggs are back in our lives.
Everything has changed. Once again. And it always does.
And even the threat of a snow storm this evening can’t dampen the giddiness and optimism that is our well-earned spring
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
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