Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Wise Trees. . .

Monday, Little Bug and I strolled through the warm sunshine, over the squishy ground to pluck the first lengthy blades of grass for chicken feed.  Well, I plucked the grass.  Bug stood by the chicken pen talking to the chickens and waiting patiently for Mommy to bring the "food."  

He could stand there for hours planning with those dirty birds.  He feeds them any thing he can fit through the wires.  When the neighbor is there, Bug will go in the pen and herd the chickens into their house.  They aren't afraid of him, so sometimes he gets to touch one.  It always makes him laugh.  

But adventures in chicken-feeding isn't my point here.  My reason for this is the walk we took after we visited the chickens.  When we left the chickens, my little farmer headed straight for the neighbors' house. I was able to detour him into the garden between the blackberry bushes.  There I saw a beautiful sight. . .shiny new leaves gleaming in the February sun. 


From the blackberries we headed to our own garden and fruit trees.  We were met with more wondrous signs of Spring.  While Bug played in the barren veggie garden still covered in last year's protective plastic, I marveled at my peach and pear trees.  The peach tree needs a good pruning before the season really sets in, but it was covered in small, fuzzy beads, promising a good harvest this year.  (I must point out, however, that I have yet to get a good harvest from this tree.  While it produces massive amounts of fruits, I have to race the deer to get them--one day late will literally lose my entire harvest to the greedy beasts.) 

The pear tree, while not as energetic as the peach, was also beginning to show its readiness for the warmer weather.  It has buds and even new growth.  And maybe the new growth is where the pear focuses its energy, because some of those young branches were long.
New Buds
Young Shoots 
Bug and I also discovered Daffodils poking up. . . First where I thought there were no more, then on the southwest corner of the house, and then in the little round garden surrounding our small white Dogwood.  This may not seem like a big deal, but where others' Daffodils may already be blooming, as with the church down the road, ours are always late.  (Whoever planted them must have put them--and every other bulb--too deep.)  When they finally push out of the ground, I know Spring is right around the corner.  We could have another snow--or a first, as this year has left us wanting--but for the most part, Winter is heading out.  The Dogwoods are also covered in the little grey beads that are their buds.


What does Punxsutawney Phil know?  I'm ready.  Bring on Spring!

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