For most of the winter, our farm was piled with snow. Clean lines and drifts were our only indications of the contour of the land below. We came to know intimately every shade of gray, as every upstate New Yorker must do.
With the coming of spring, our view of the farm has outgrown our winter window glazing. There is warmth in the sunshine and a spring to our step. Garth and Alanna have been digging the beginnings of our vegetable garden. Edmund replaced our mailbox. Today I spent the afternoon raking up leaves and pulling thorns and burdock from around some of the buildings. With delight, we have all witnessed crocus blossoms growing in the yard. But where there is joy, there is also disgust: trash, burdock, and bones have also been revealed by the melting snow.
While gardening today I collected on the front step just a few of unnerving items found in our yard: a broken knife, a chain, broken glass and metal, plastic and wood. At every turn, there is reason to wonder at (and curse) the stewardship of the previous owner. And equally as often I find myself hopeful for the coming months and grateful for the beauty of this land.