wind and rain and pondering gardens

We've had a lovely week, although most days have been a little windy. The spring fever has continued, although I abandoned the urge to clear closets and went instead to the arena, thinking I might get it spruced up. The thought of potted flowers sitting on dressage markers fueled me for a while, but then suddenly the back field, now off limits to the equines, called.

I spent about 45 minutes setting up 5 jumps and a row of cavaletti. I put flowers on one jump, white buckets on another, and stuck pinwheels into my compost piles. It was a lot of fun. My daughter rode Cody back there to let him check everything out, and then the pony asked to go back as well when it was his turn to ride. Keil Bay left a full hay net in his stall to go back, and although I thought he might get excited and do a little running around, he was more interested in the subtle greening that is occurring across the ground of the entire property.

We're definitely moving from the bark-chewing dead of winter into early spring. The horses are no longer tempted by trees, but are constantly roaming the fields nibbling at the emerging shoots of grass. Just in the past two days when I look out the window, I'm seeing green instead of brown and tan.

Today we have warm weather, but instead of sunshine we're getting wind and rain. We can use the rain after this time of drying out. Horses will likely be hanging out in the barn and paddocks today, munching hay and watching. Although at 70 degrees I won't close off the front field. If they want to head out and nibble, they can.

It's a good day for me to work on planting seeds. Of all kinds. Vegetables, flowers, herbs, and also seeds for other things: ideas and books, dreams and wishes. If I could sketch right here on the blog, you'd see this:

A garden bed sprouting books, little loads of stone and screenings and sand, hand-knitted ponchos in jeweled colors, notes for songs I could suddenly read and play on the keyboard in the corner of our living room, hand-thrown plates and bowls and mugs, and plants full of little buds holding things like time, the kairos kind, that bloom only one bud a day, for the entire year, so that every single day is one very special flowering gift of between time, in which something magical and special happens.

ADDENDUM:

When I went out to the barn the sun came out. Completely. I'm not sure what happened to the forecast, but after the perfect rain, in which the ground got a good soak but not enough to make mud, the sun has come out, the wind is blowing, and there is indeed a light sheen of green across the fields.

I discovered as I walked down the front hill that the horses and donkeys are sleeping right outside my bedroom windows, which makes me very happy. That's today's kairos bud opening into bloom.