Down from the Trees

Spring lurks at the corner of the street, its temptations wafting over the lot, its birdcall in the air. The sap is beginning to run, trees heavy with it, buds swelling. Grass that has emerged from the snow is already beginning to turn green, snow retreating even from the shadowy places. We've had rain, though frost is on the grass each morning. Courtesy of the mother-in-law, today we enjoyed some corned beef and cabbage, bread pudding, and good company, preparation for St. Patrick's Day tomorrow. Yesterday a few trees fell out at the Bechen farm, having served their purpose--no buds on their branches this spring. Friday evening we enjoyed companionship at the B's, a few beverages, some limericks, the first dose of corned beef and cabbage of the year.

This afternoon branches fell from the apple trees, my attempt at putting them to right, lopping off the diseased and withered, keeping the branches that mean to do the work of apple-making. Suckers and branches going in the wrong direction dropped into the yard, some well-dead wood already in the wood stove. Sore and satisfied, I plopped my tired bones down near that stove's heat and enjoyed the evening with spouse and dog.