Spring is tied for first place among all four seasons at the Farm. Sandhill cranes chuckle in the distance along the Black River as they migrate north. That earthy scent before a rain sends you back in time. And the pink and white of the majestic magnolia in the yard, backgrounded by the chartreuse turning to a new verdant tone every day, reminds you that change is coming. And it is good.
We're in the process of clearing the field, which looks a little dismal now, a little like an open wound, but we're helping it to heal by planting new cultivars of blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries (did you know there's a cultivar called a white blackberry? Why not just call it a whiteberry?). We'll also be planting cherry, apple, pear, plum, and even a fig and pecan tree, so by this time next year, we'll have a baby orchard, complete with trails. It's almost enough to make us anticipate summer, fall, and winter, so we can get to next spring. But we don't want to rush it. The wicker furniture, including a rocker, is now on the front patio so you can take a few minutes to watch it all unfurl before all of your senses.
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