The stuff of dreams.

Before we moved here, when we were living in a large city, I dreamed of days like this. Though the ground is still covered with snow, the weather is the warm and moist like early spring should be. It's warm enough here that I have left the front door hanging open, letting the scent of sun and budding trees and frosty mid fill the house. Classical guitar is pouring out of my radio. Junebug is standing at the open door, laughing at nothing in the way that toddlers do, and occasionally tossing toys onto the porch. In the distance, the chickens (who have started producing eggs, at long last) are clucking softly. The rooster is clucking right along with the, throwing in a hearty crow now and then for emphasis. Spring has arrived, bringing  change and life and joy back to the land.

In just over a week, my own changes will begin in earnest. My medical evaluation is happening, really happening, after all these years. As the farm grows into its potential, so will I. I am excited. I am nervous. I an anxious to throw myself into the arms of.this beautiful year, and give it all I have to give.