Cruising' into Spring

Yesterday afternoon we took a long, slow drive through one of our favorite parts of Minnesota, the St. Croix River valley between Taylors Falls and Stillwater. We had the driver's window in the Jeep open and rarely exceeded 20 mph. Crows were cawing. Deer were gleaning the cornfield stubble. Maple sap was, indeed, dripping into syrping / sugaring buckets. We ended up feeling more relaxed and refreshed than we have for weeks, maybe months.

see the five deer in the corn?

Photo by J. Harrington

The area we drove through is pretty much the same one we traverse when we head off to pick up a Spring, Summer or Fall Community Supported Agriculture [CSA] share. We attained our goal for this trip, to confirm that a sugarbush along one stretch of the road was in production. It is. Elsewhere, the sheep were out of their barn, several horses were out of their respective barns, all enjoying our unseasonably warm weather. Along the road, a small herd of beef cattle yearling calves, minus one escapee, was being tended by a disgruntled farmer. As we very slowly drove paste the escapee, s/he abruptly turned and galumphed back down the ditch toward the rest of the herd. That triggered our smile reflex.

maple sugaring season, 2021

Photo by J. Harrington

As we were not sorry to see the changing of the guard in Washington, D.C. back in January, so we are not sorry to watch the Winter of 2020-2021 fade into Spring. We suspect it will take us some time to finally readjust our "Resist" attitude to something slightly more suitable, but, as we note each  year, the transitioning from Winter to Spring occurs over weeks, not days nor hours nor minutes. At least we think we're back headed in the right direction, sort of like that yearling calf.

(The fifth deer is barely visible on the right-hand side, about 3/16 of an inch below the pines and that far from the right-hand edge. Unlike cattle, deer and goats "know what to do.")

300 Goats 

By Naomi Shihab Nye

In icy fields.

Is water flowing in the tank?

Will they huddle together, warm bodies pressing?

(Is it the year of the goat or the sheep?

Scholars debating Chinese zodiac,

follower or leader.)

O lead them to a warm corner,

little ones toward bulkier bodies.

Lead them to the brush, which cuts the icy wind.

Another frigid night swooping down — 

Aren’t you worried about them? I ask my friend,

who lives by herself on the ranch of goats,

far from here near the town of Ozona.

She shrugs, “Not really,

they know what to do. They’re goats.”

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