WHO SAID IT WOULDN’T COME?

Yes, it really did come, spring that is. Now it is “unrolling” so fast that a blink is all it takes to miss some beautiful stage of growth or bloom. We had snow early this month and it seemed like the monumental piles of winter snow would never go but, even before they were all gone, out popped the daffodils to blaze yellow on the lower lawn. Along with them came the purple Pasque flowers (kind of a domesticated crocus) which are so early that they have come and gone before I can remove the encroaching grass from around them. More perennials have shot out of the ground-and more quack grass has joined them. I am not a fan of the easy solution, “Roundup everywhere,”; consequently I never win the battle of the weeds. Last week we took our side-by-side, (a two-person vehicle halfway between a quad and a miniature jeep) and went exploring the Williams Creek area. You may have seen or heard news items of the battle raging between those who want to cull the wild horse herds out there and those who want them left alone to run free. With the extreme deep snow I’m sure Nature did quite a lot of culling without human intervention. However, we did see eight horses. One, probably a young bachelor stud, was grazing alone some distance away. Then we came upon three thin mares on the wide trail ahead. They appeared to be looking down at something that, from a distance resembled a pile of bones. Then, lo and behold, the “bones” stirred, assembled themselves into four long legs and a tiny body, and stood up. A foal so tiny he had to have been no more than a day old! The horses walked away with the youngster gallantly hustling along behind Mom. Who could not admire the courage and tenacity of these animals? Later, in the distance we saw two more mares, accompanied by a slightly older foal. On the home front, Little Kitty provided entertainment. He is an elder statesman of about 15 and doesn’t hunt any more. However, one day last week he received a gift. I have a cat door into my porch and, as we sat drinking coffee, we saw a cat face appear vaguely outside the translucent plastic. Little saw it too and decided to jump up on the inside approach and block the way. They both sat for a moment. Then Little began to play “footsie” under the door, making several hooks outside. I thought he was batting at the other cat but, no, he was reeling in his prize. Apparently the outside cat had planned to being her mouse indoors but abandoned it when her way was blocked. In came Little’s paw, complete with dead mouse. Was he excited! He tossed! He leapt! He ran! He hid it under the rug to find it again! And then-he ate it! Ate it neatly and completely and never even spilled a drop of blood. Thank you, Powder. Little had the time of his life with your mouse.

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