Mud. Everywhere. That is the current state of the barnyard. You take a step and your boot is engulfed in a slimy bath. You pick your foot up and it slurps in protest. Don't try to run or you may find your footwear has remained behind in a suctioned prison while your barefoot cringes from its squishy plunge. The cows do not mind as long as they have plenty of hay. The kitties meow pitifully from their perch on the fence cross braces until I relent and carry them across the glop and up the ladder to their waiting dinner. The goats indignantly protest this horrible affront on their domain, while attempting to copy the river game.:) I wait. I work. I hurry. I dig a small ditch in an effort to divert the runoff around the barn. I pitch hay. I sing a little. I sigh. I milk. I watch. The does are getting bigger. Two weeks is not very long. I wish for an army of help. I wonder, "what was I thinking?". I sigh again and go back to work. In the mud, that is everywhere, but at least it smells like spring. Now for a bit of fresh thought from the progressive farmer. (I love to flip straight to the back and read all the inspirational quotes on the last page before I read the articles ;) .)
Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again.
~Sarah Ban Breathnach~