Snowing

   

                                                       Out of the bosom of the air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garment shaken,

Over the woodlands, brown and bare

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.

~  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Snowflakes

Under a cold spell for the past few days, the resident deer have been showing up at the water trough.
A group of eight does, mamas and their babies.
All fat and healthy, they have quite a variety to choose from in the nearby pasture and woods.
My arborvitaes  however, seem to be their favorites.

 

 

 

 Out of the bosom of the air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garment shaken,
Over the woodlands, brown and bare
 Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

~~  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Reporting For Duty

The weather has warmed.

The sunshine on my face, feels friendly once again.

There is lots of work to do around the garden, planting, raking , scrubbing, and banishing all signs of Winter.

It's a time of rejuvenation, I'm ready to roll up my sleeves and report for duty.

March

The cock is crowing,

The stream is flowing,

The small birds twitter,

The lake doth glitter

The green field sleeps in the sun;

The oldest and youngest

Are at work with the strongest;

The cattle are grazing,

Their heads never raising;

There are forty feeding like one!

Like an army defeated

The snow hath retreated,

And now doth fare ill

On the top of the bare hill;

The plowboy is whooping—anon-anon:

There's joy in the mountains;

There's life in the fountains;

Small clouds are sailing,

Blue sky prevailing;

The rain is over and gone!

~William Wordsworth