March is winter, March is spring! March is a little bit of everything!

March in the farm is indeed a little bit of everything. It is days of bright sunshine and days of wind and rain. It is days when both sunshine and rain appear, or days like today when we had snow squalls after snow squalls with sunshine and bright blue sky interspersed between. The wind howled and the temperature dropped to 33 by nightfall.

Poor little crocuses, their furled pastel umbrellas shaken in the wind! But find me a crocus that minds March… it is their favorite time of the year! Right now I think it is my favorite, too.

The wind whistled through the milking parlor. It seemed to infect the cows with a strange spring fever, for when the milkmaid opened the door and called to them, who should come muscling their way up through the crowd, but the Matriarchs of the herd, those who will never ever come in until the very last? The milkmaid stared in amazement. Alison also made a valiant attempt to enter, but was shooed out again as she is dry.

What one doesn’t have one will chase after! Alison has done nothing but charge the open door of the milking parlor since she was dried off. Hunter Jumper eyes distant alfalfa fields with great longing. She measures the closest fence with her eyes and decides to leave it be. Her latest expeditions have convinced her that the grass is not quite as …ripe… as it could be, and would do well with some warm weather and sunshine to sweeten it up a little. Meanwhile, she has delicious hay in her feeder. If the farm people need livening up at any time, though, she is quite happy to give them some excitement. Any day.

The milkmaid is quite content in her parlor, with the milkers pulsing cheerfully and cows munching quietly; but she does think it a bit chilly with the brisk March wind whipping through. Normally she has a barn kitten or two to cuddle inbetween cows, but today they do not appear until she is done milking and she is obliged to warm her hands in her pockets instead of wrapping them around a warm woolen kitten.

Radishes uncurl bright green leaves under the row cover. We look forward to their fresh crispness in salads, garnishes, or eaten straight. We hope Christopher the cat doesn’t develop a taste for them. He was discovered last summer to have quite a fondness for fresh red vine-ripened tomatoes, much to the dismay of the farmer’s wife!