3.17.24
The first swallow arrived yesterday. A good day for it too as the temperatures zoomed up to a balmy 66 degrees! It felt more like the mid-70’s as Darrell and I sat on the deck, enjoying the feel of the sun’s rays on our upturned faces. The dogs, at first content to lay basking in the sun at our feet, finally found it too hot on their glossy black coats so retired to their summer slumber spot under the deck. The Say’s Phoebes have also arrived, and I am sure the Blue Birds will not be far behind. Mother Nature is throwing back her hair, stretching her arms wide, ready to welcome that child of Spring into her arms.
I love this time of year. Well, autumn is actually my favourite, but spring comes in a dandy close second. The past few mornings as dawn begins pushing the darkness away from the eastern horizon, there is a freshness in the air. The smell is amazing. To each of us I am sure, that early aroma of a new day smells different. To me it is the scent of dewy, damp earth. Not the petrichor of newly fallen rain on parched ground, but something more earthy, both richer and fresher. A tang that truly awakens the senses and stirs the gardener in us all. As I stood on the front porch for a moment yesterday morning, milker in hand, ready to head down to the milk house where Heidi was patiently waiting, I took a moment to breathe in deeply. I filled my lungs to the brim with the scent of the new day and let the gratitude I felt for being alive wash over me.
What an amazing start to the day I thought as I stepped off the porch and made my way to the milking barn. Once Heidi was in her stanchion, munching happily on her morning’s grain with the milker ticking rhythmically away in the background, I stood at the open door and looked out at a view I never get tired of. The sky was already a bright blue, green grass shoots, which always look greener in the early mornings, were coming up in abundance in the cow’s paddock. At the top of the slope the two old horses, Colt and his pal Lady, stood contentedly side by side in the early morning sunshine. Three young cockerels, their pitch-black feathers suddenly flashing iridescent as the sun touched them, strutted about the barnyard. Everyone was enjoying this touch of morning warmth.
However, my reverie was short lived. While Heidi was in the milk parlour munching away, her mum Lass and our young bull Yoda were somewhat patiently standing at the fence staring at me. I say somewhat patiently, because Yoda is not a very patient chap. Lass looks on in mute appeal, knowing a tin of grain will be coming her way in all good time, but young Yoda is never quite sure. He just knows one of his girls is eating a tasty treat and he is not!
At first, it is just a low, rumbling, gentle moo that comes from deep within his chest. His black eyes staring intently at me out from underneath his shaggy brows. When that does not get my attention, the moos increase in volume and duration. A steady, guttural sound that many might associate with an extremely ill-tempered animal since they are coming from a rather chunky hunk of black bull. If he feels I am still ignoring his pleas for attention, the moos morph into a full-throated bellow! Jarring me out of my morning contemplations I walk the few steps towards the fence “Oi! Quiet!” I bellow in return as Yoda takes a quick step back, the next bellow quickly dying in his throat. “Quiet!” I repeat, for he knows he will not get a morsel of grain if he is being so rude! Lass is still looking on patiently.
Giving in, I dump a wee bit more grain in Heidi’s manger before taking the balance of the ration out into the cow paddock for Lass and Yoda. They follow me to their respective feed tubs and wait patiently while I dump a small ration into each bowl. After taking a step back I give them the go ahead to eat by saying “Okay!” Lass delves right in to her treat, but Yoda hesitates, looking at me one more time as if to say, “Are you sure?”. I repeat the go-ahead word and he tentatively starts to eat. Patting him on his muscly neck I make my way out the paddock to check on Heidi’s udder.
Once milking is done and Heidi has been turned in with her calf who is anxiously awaiting the creamy leftovers in mum’s udder, I load up the milker and head back to the house. There, Darrell will be waiting at the front door, coming down the steps as I pull up with the milker sitting on the back of the four-wheeler. He comes and carries the heavy pot down the garden path for me while I grab the empty wash bucket and hurry past him in order to hold open the front door. The dogs, who have waited patiently for me to return from milking, romp around then dash to the back door before coming in the house. I love these morning routines. They never lose their wonderful joy. Each and every day I find my heart being refilled with gratitude, each day is a blessing and to top it all off, the smell of spring is in the air!
The words of the final verse of that wonderful hymn, “Morning Has Broken”, sang countless times in old English churches when I was growing up come to mind…
Mine is the sunlight! Mine is the morning,
Born of the one light, Eden saw play!
Praise with elation, praise every morning,
God’s recreation of the new day!