It's a gorgeous, though slightly cool day at the farmette. We had a hard frost last night and it's about -1C this morning.
The Covid-19 pandemic continues...actually, it's kind of like living inside a science fiction movie. The Foodland grocery store has a friendly guy who sprays your hands with sanitizer as you walk in the door and all the cashiers have face masks - surreal. It'll be interesting to see what kinds of practices and behaviours change permanently from this, once we're on the other side of it. Hopefully in the not-too-distant future.
Anyhow. The one good thing that we can continue to enjoy is the onset of spring. The farmette has started to burst with life, and it is truly edifying to see everything waking up and showing up after a winter slumber.
For example, the Canada geese are back. Dr. Melanie's pond was still frozen over, so the pair that live there were slightly confused when I went for my walk on Wednesday.
We found out that she's recovering from the surgery and that she'll need more treatment - radiation or chemo or both. We're staying hopeful.
I've had snowdrops since the middle of the month. They're always the first out of the gate. (Or, should I say ground?)
This morning, when I went out for my walkabout, I found a lone yellow crocus that still had frost on it from last night. Amazingly resilient wee things. They look so delicate, but they must have strong stems to be able to push through all the detritus I left on the beds last fall.
I also spied my daffodils peeking up out of the soil and my weeping pussy willow tree survived the winter, which is amazing, since we only just planted him last year.
We managed to get the kittens fixed on Tuesday. It was quite the chore trying to get Wilma into the cat cage. Like wrangling a greased eel. With sharp claws and teeth. Poor wee thing is still so timid. She apparently took a chunk out of Dr. Melanie's husband Keith when he was prepping her for surgery. He's a hero to the cause, and we conveyed our sincere apologies on behalf of the little fur ball.
Fred, on the other hand, was a doddle. Eileen, who's the receptionist, bookkeeper, holder of recalcitrant animals and all-round huge help at the clinic, made sure that the two of them were in the same cage so they could cuddle up over night. I think that helped, especially since they are so bonded.
Can't believe how much we missed them. They were only gone for 24 hours. But the farmette house was QUIET. No yelling for Fred to get off the damn counter. No tripping over the torpedo that Wilma becomes when she's chasing a plastic spring.
Now, things are back to the regularly scheduled chaos that we seem to (happily) live in every day.
Wilma is even calming down a bit.
She stayed on the oversized chair with me sitting right beside her the other day. No touching yet. Just proximity. We'll get there.
Until next week. Stay home and stay safe!