Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Uncooped up

The Rhododendron is blooming. The Camellia is in full regalia. Spring has come to Oregon. But best of all, I saw two baby lambs with long tails wagging, and I was once again on the farm on Neff Road.

For those of us who grew up with sheep living in a shed that sat on the other side of the lawn, we knew what it meant when spring made an appearance. The bulbs might be popping up, and it still might be a bit chilly, yet we knew that lambing time was upon us. I sat in the corner watching the lambs arrive. Birth on the farm was nothing new. We learned about the process of conceiving, birthing and death at an early age. There were no surprises. We had seen it all. I for one cannot eat lamb. It tastes exactly as a baby lamb smells. For a girl who had a lamb as a pet, eating lamb is all wrong. I'd much rather think that all sheep live in comfort giving up only their wool once a year.

Spring also heralded the cleaning of the barns and chicken coops. City folks probably don't realize that when animals winter indoors during cold months, the amount of disagreeable disposal gets deeper. Thus, out comes the manure spreader and the fields are fed for the growing season. It is the way on the farm in spring. Horses seem to romp more. Cows savor the spring growth of new grass. Rabbits do what they always do, and chickens escape the coop once more to see what has fallen into the chicken yard over those indoor months.

I miss those spring days on the farm. A time when brown turned to green, and more people popped in for a visit. Neighbor kids walked the lane once more knowing it was warm enough to play in the barn. We eagerly awaited the first mushrooms to pop up in the woods.

I actually squealed when I saw those sweet lambs with their wagging tails. Spring has kissed her world once more.

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