We did it. We survived, maybe even thrived. Winter is done with, at least the vernal equinox says so. Yes, the landscape is still white, there's still inches and inches of ice on the pond and mud season is in full-swing. But winter itself is officially over.
This winter was full of adjustments, growing pains, and truthfully, anxiety about how and if this transition to the farm is working out. But we kept planning, kept working, made lists, ordered seeds and trees, ordered chicks, and suddenly it is truly and actually spring. We feel as committed and passionate about our goals here, as ever, maybe more, after slugging through the highs and lows of the coldest season. Winter outside, here on the farm, is stunning. No complaints there, I'm still a fan of winter. Inside, with the house often in various stages of renovation, with two teens, an 80-year old, and two 40-somethings, one of which works from home full-time, well, it's no wonder we skidded across some black ice.
As we celebrated Easter, today, we had a heightened sense of rebirth and renewal. The colors seemed more saturated. The usually utilitarian kitchen felt pretty and even elegant. We ate deviled eggs and the cake the teens decided to make in the afternoon, and we listened to the March wind send slush crashing off the roof.
And we exhaled.
We were comforted in the rituals of Spring, in the abundant cheerfulness of our collected things, and in our gifts of sweetness to each other. Winter is good and done and Spring holds immense promise.