Ah, but I took a walk in our woods this afternoon, and among the muddy places and the tangles of winter blow-down, I spotted this undeniable clarion of the season.

Viola glabella
The appearance of violets was always a happy moment for my mother. She would go into raptures for the purple woodland violets or the occasional white ones. And though I love the scent of the purple violet, it is that flash of yellow in the dark woods that signals the turn of the season for me.

Seems I can’t stop blogging today, though I have little to say other than, “Here is another day!” That ought to be reason enough to sing out, I suppose. Among Quakers, Sunday is called First-Day. Holy Week begins today though for Quakers, who attempt to integrate worship and life and who believe Godself can be found in the middle of everyday life as much as in a meeting for worship, it is not the central event it is for most Christian groups. Thank you to my friend Betty (the Sheep Woman) for the word Godself.

But if today was a first day, it was also a last day. The reason for my walk into the wood was the yearling ewe I carried in a wheelbarrow to the charnel ground under the trees. Coming up to this spring day she lay down and gave up her last breath. It was a day of mixed signals. Frost and snow early, sun after a while. The farm gives me focus sometimes.

…More yellow!

As we used to say back in the ’60s, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”

Published in: on April 1, 2007 at 7:45 pm  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. I’m sorry to hear about your ewe…how sad it is when one of these creatures which share our land and worm their way into our hearts dies. What happened, do you know? Toxemia? Mystery death?

    Your photos of Spring are beautiful, and remind me that in a month or so, we’ll be seeing the same sorts of things here, where most of the snow has melted, but it still isn’t showing much else as signs of Spring except the one BIG sign: mud everywhere. The roads are interesting this time of year, for sure!

  2. Good morning, Sheepwoman!

    This little ewe was not one of the bred sheep. She was over with the harem of women I had decided not to breed, and one old ewe I didn’t want to stress with another pregnancy. This idiot girl insisted on sticking her head through the fence, over and over and over again. I have another who does that, too. I can’t count the number of times I have pulled them out of the fence wire. Horns can be a dilemma once they are fed through the knit of the fence. Anyway, this time she did it during the night, and at a place where the wire was close enough on her throat she couldn’t breathe. I found her in the morning. It’s sad, yes. But it happens on a farm. You have to be philosophical.

    Thanks for praise for the photos. I think they are the reason I couldn’t stay off the blog yesterday. I wanted to share them!


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