IT HAPPENED ON A THURSDAY    

It finally happened.  Spring showed up, puffing in (at 26 kph, gusting to 37) last Thursday like she just realized she was late for a date.  I don't know where she had been dilly-dallying for the past month, but it seems she has snapped out of it now. 

The melting of the snow took exactly three days: on Thursday there were a few darker spots showing through the snow banks, on Friday the yard was half clear, and by Saturday night there was none of the white stuff left.  It was like watching a movie on fast forward.  If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it possible: an entire season took less than a week.  Up until now I had always thought that was just a cliché. 

We saw our first robins on Wednesday, I heard my first meadowlark on Thursday, and we woke to the mourning doves calling to each other on Friday morning.  At this rate I better get the humming bird feeders up too.  As I write this morning there is a whole flock of blackbirds in the maples behind the house excitedly chattering at each other like they've just arrived at a family reunion - they may be brash and noisy but it's a happy sound.

If our household is any indication of what's happening across the prairies, humans are poking their noses out of their lairs, dazed by the bright light in the sky, and feeling the need to find something to do in the sunshine.  By 10:30 yesterday morning I had performed my ritual first walk around the yard checking for life in my asparagus patch, under the peony mulch, and amongst the rhubarb debris from last year.  I am fully aware that these things will not show up for weeks, but I literally can't help myself, so I may as well get it out of the way first thing.

That way I can move on to what actually needs to be done ... we have a dog.

While I did my woman things the man went over to his shop and got going on his man list of things to do.  A local once told us that in Guatemala "if it can't be done with a machete, it's not man's work".  I don't know if they were kidding or not, but you can substitute the word 'machine' for 'machete' for rural Canadian culture ... and I'm only partially kidding, in case you're wondering.

By mid afternoon I knew the ground was too frozen to even scratch around in, and the gardens were too muddy to explore for signs of life.  There was just one thing to do - my favorite - go and clear out dead trees from the shelterbelt!  I've been waiting years for a wood chipper; this year my piles of chopped branches are all going to be guilt free!  If there is a scientific name for my particular brand of crazy, I'm not aware of what it is, but I do know I'm not alone.

Meanwhile the man had fired up his tractor and brought a bucket of black dirt in to fill in a couple of low spots in the lawn.  It was easy to see he needed a farming fix, but this didn't quite fill that need. 

It was no surprise to me a little while later, to see the tractor and tiller pull into the pasture to the east of the yard - he was looking for somewhere dry enough to till.  My thought was "That will keep him busy untangling bale twine from the tiller."  There had to be at least 14 miles of it out there from all the years of storing bales and feeding cattle.  I went back to what I was doing - that was his problem.

Some time later I noticed the tractor was stopped.  I was impressed that 14 miles of bale twine could be wound up that fast, but at least it would give him lots to do while I made supper. 

A good while later I checked on him again and was surprised that nothing had moved since I had come inside.  Strange ... either he should have been going again by now, or he at least would have come in to report on whatever was going on.  I picked up my phone to text him a question mark and spotted his phone on its charger.  Well, okay then, I would have to go check on him the old fashioned way.

There's always something a little scary about checking on a machine that's sitting still when it should be moving.  What if he was trying to cut wrapped twine off the rotors and something let go or jumped into gear when he was too close?  What if it clunked him on the head?  Or ran over him?  I double checked the yard for any sign of him or a missing vehicle but those possibilities were ruled out; I would need to check the scene of the crime.  I fired up the quad and headed out to the pasture.  Maybe he had taken the .22 and was trying to get the gopher population down.

The pasture was empty.  The tractor was empty.  I took a short tour around the fence line; nothing.  I checked the approach out of the field - my quad tracks seemed to be the only ones there.  The only walk this man would ever take would be straight back to the yard.  This was a head scratcher, alright, but eventually I came to the obvious conclusion - he had been abducted by aliens.  I always knew it would happen someday.

They returned him by suppertime though, disguised as neighbours who had wanted help to unload a new corn planter. 

As of this morning spring is in full spring ... I have laundry hanging out on the line, my bedding plants are getting their first day of outside sunshine on the deck, I'm heading out to clear more forest, and he's off to work getting ready to put this year's crop in.  And everybody's smiling.  It's good to see you Spring!  Better late than never.