Spring is just so much fun with baby everything. All over the North Country young ‘uns are about. Beef calves follow close underfoot, never far from the milk bar. Lambs, foals and fillies frolic on spindly legs, top heavy. Whitetail does graze the long grasses, obscured except for a spot of dark coat visible just beneath the heads of grain, moving slowly toward the forest, where a fawn emerges from hiding. A cottontail rabbit bouncing around the back corner of the yard is joined by two bunnies in a game of hide-and-seek along the fence line. And those birds! Perhaps none work harder to feed their young — a noisy nest of fledglings is not to be ignored!
This spring we have a new experience in baby grapes! Yes, indeed, the transplants are coming along nicely. Minuscule fruit have emerged, tiny green clusters on lengthening vines. One of the two varieties of the blueberries are already ripening. So far, at least, the rabbits have ignored our fresh produce. We can only hope those birds don’t take notice, either. They do seem to prefer the perch of that split rail fence.
Last week, I held a newborn baby in my arms for the first time in a very long while. So soft! So sweet. I could rock-a-bye baby for hours. It’s been nearly three decades since the Hubs and I were in baby-making mode. The result were three fantabulous chids and some long and difficult days. (Umm, well, years.) But oh, so wonderful. Yet I refuse to accept that our best years are behind us. We’ve a lot of living left to do.
It’s a bright, beautiful morning in the North Country. I’ve a cup of cinnamon coffee, piping hot. Sunshine is warm on my face. A gentle breeze blows, blessed by birdsong. My newest young friend, Nutsy the chipmunk, has joined me on the patio. If I didn’t have to work today, I might convince myself I’m the queen of a small slice of paradise.