I say JOY! (and other things)

I say Joy

I walked to the top of our rise this morning, the first time for months. The crust of the snow was solid and it shimmered like diamonds, like tiny constellations in a white sky. The geese were all in a flutter watching me trek by (translation: "Hey, what's going on?! What's this?! Hold it, hold it! Wait up! Well, let us join in some of this ... what do you call it ... fun?" And so on.) and I left them gabbling as I continued on up, up, up. Oh, it was glorious. Good to see that the snowmobilers have all stayed on the trail this year. Good to be up there alone with only bird song and the lonely baying of some hound dogs waaaay off in the distance. I reached the top and found myself smack dab in the middle of an expansive meditation, in communion with the Green Mountains off to the west. A quiet joy. And I send joy to my friends struggling with their various challenges. To Japan and the immeasureable hardship and heartache. To all of us being buffeted about in these unsettled, unsure, doubt and fear filled times. I say Joy. Joy when it's least appropriate or expected. Joy loud and soft, brazen and humble. Joy for the hell of it. Joy, joy, joy. Joy to the World.

It is now 1 in the afternoon and 40 degrees out, sunny, melting. I'm sure the snow's crust could not hold me now. The geese and chickens are out, enjoying the weather. We've had our first 2 goose eggs. Shmuel has been doing his siring duties overtime and it shows on our girls heads and necks. Poor babies, rode hard and put away wet. Daphne's pink head is bare of feathers on top and in back and at profile she looks as if she's recovering from some sort of brain surgery. She should be walking around in a white terry cloth robe, carting an IV pole beside her. When Shmuel has one of the girls other than Mary Ann down on the ground, wrenching their necks and heads down to keep them in place, Mary Ann bites them from the sidelines. Talk about piling on! If I had a referee's flag I'd be tossing it into the air constantly.

Soon all of the coops and pens will need cleaning out. Dry straw to replace all the thawing, soiled straw now there. A fit chore for the change of seasons.

I'm just back from a quick trip to Indiana, my home state, where I spent some quality time with family and friends and the last 10 miles driving home over dirt roads let me know that mud season is here, not the season of deep chasms of ruts yet, but the rivulets take your tires where they want the tires to go. A challenge of shimmying and swerving as if gremlins are taking over your car's navigational system.

Still, still it's invigorating and bracing and I'm thinking GREEN is on its way. Yours in mud season and joy! Be well.