Some people live for the weekend. I live for spring.
This is my greatest joy:
Breathing the first hint of forest after the thaw,
hearing the stream break out after a winter muffled by ice and snow,
the sound of cranes,
three day old lambs bouncing with all the joy of creation,
the first blades of grass,
the feel of a warm breeze on bare skin,
blue skies and torrential downpours,
the sound of cows munching on fresh grass,
the strength in his eyes
long days on the fields, with soil
the colour green,
good meals around a big table and knowing we earned every bite.