Must Be March
It was in the sixties earlier this week and the weatherman says it will be again by Saturday, but you'd never convince me of that right now.  As I sit here writing and looking out my window, the wind is whipping snow and sleet a dozen directions at once and the wind chimes on the porch are sounding off wildly.  But this is March, the month of contrasts, the month of hope and delayed gratification, of  new seedlings and killing frosts, of sunshine and snow.  We can be thankful that there are no extreme temperatures associated with this cold front and that it will be exiting soon.
Today, though, as I sank into the muck at the barn and slid down the hill trying to walk Pico, I thought to myself that this might be one of those days that make folks like the "idea  of  farm" so much better than the actual thing.  It's easy to romanticize farm life on sunny spring days when the forsythia blooms, the grass greens and new life pops out all over.  It's easy to forget that there are an awful lot of days, and sometimes nights too, not nearly so nice, but which still require the tending of animals and plants.  I say all this as a way of adding balance to this blog, which probably does tend toward optimism concerning all things "farm".  I guess I should write more about slogging out in the cold after an already long day at work to feed or pen up some animal.  Or maybe I should tell you how they get sick and have to be vetted at great expense and inconvenience.  Or perhaps I should recount midnight trips to the barn waiting for a doe to kid or a mare to foal, or stories of losing all the peaches to a late frost, or of scorching August days in the kitchen trying to keep ahead of a sudden glut of tomatoes and cucumbers.  That's all part of it. The good with the not so good.  It's a total package deal. Kind of like March. Kind of like life. You don't get sunshine and daffodils without cold winds and mud. 
Meanwhile, Pico's training continues.  We walk the perimeter of the pasture every day.  I think Pico has accepted me as his new master, and he seems to like me.  He is learning (or maybe re-learning. I don't know) to sit on command.  He is adjusting to the horses and chickens by pretty much ignoring them which is what he is supposed to do.  Every day he seems glad to see me and eager for our permimeter check...but today he was a little less so, and I quickly figured out why.  When I looked in on him, I saw that he had an absolutely huge piece of greenbriar stuck in his coat all along his body and dragging behind him.  Greenbriar.  How in the world?  It wasn't there when I left him yesterday of course. My first thought was that maybe somehow the horses had thrown it in there on him.  I could sort of picture that.  Sort of.  On further inspection, though,  I saw that he had managed to loosen the wire grid which I had tacked over his access door to keep him in.  He'd loosened it, slipped out, did who knows what, gotten tangled in the briar and let himself back into his stall.  Hmm. Maybe we should call him Houdini.  Or Rascal.  He was trying to act all innocent but with the tell tale six foot long briar attached, he was not pulling it off.  I re-tacked the wire grid, but I don't have much confidence it will stay.  My plan is to really check and reinforce the electric fence on Saturday so he can be let out of the stall to do his job.  Hope this works.