There isn't a long grace period between seasons, and not much time to acclimatize to the change. Down in the barn, I was thinking a tank top might have been a better choice than the work shirt. Winter's flannel sheets have been put away. Another couple of days like this and I'll be turning back on the water to the deck faucet to give the potted plants a needed drink. The barren branches of the oaks have leafed out in that only-seen-in-spring green. Woodpeckers, dressed in black and white tuxedos complimented by fiery red heads, are back in droves. I think of them as construction birds, not because they actually build anything, but because of their jackhammer pounding and the high-pitched voompah-voompah call that sounds like a hand saw. The hills that were a study in black and white a week ago are in spectacular technicolor now. We may get more rain and possibly snow, but I think it's safe to say that spring has sprung.
It's equally difficult to become accustomed to the rapid price hikes of late. At the feed store yesterday, alfalfa jumped to sixteen dollars a bale. Two bags of goat chow, one bag of chicken scratch, and a bag of bird seed ran to seventy-five dollars. Someone in line behind me suggested a barbecue might be in order. Dave (who is the essence of a country "has everything you'd need" store owner, including slow, shuffling gait and ever-present John Deere ball cap) said that gasoline was going up a dime a gallon (over four dollars, cash price) as soon as he could change the sign. Prices for gasoline are dictated by the oil companies, not the sellers, and he had no choice. The government says we're pulling out of it but, up here, we're still depressed.
It's not necessarily a bad thing to have to differentiate between what you need and what you want...makes you grateful for what you have. The sun is shining, the animals are healthy...it's a good day.