Inevitably, (thankfully,) there comes that one day in March when there is more earth visible than snow. One finally gets the feeling that winter has packed its bags. Sure it may have a few flurries left in its toiletry case, or a blizzard in its carry-on, but for the most part winter is heading further north for the summer.
A heavy rain is a sure sign that that day has come. But no matter how steady that rain may be, it won’t keep us in the house.
Here’s a few recent pics we took during our walk on “The Day The Ground Appeared Again.”
It’s always interesting to see where the snow melts last. Even the smallest dead flower stalk in the right windy location can create a giant drift by the end of winter.
Make you wish you had your puddle jumping muck boots on, right?
When we prune our fruit trees during the winter, we let the branches lay where they fall until well into spring. This provides food for hungry rabbits and deer, and hopefully keeps them from eating the live trees. See where the bark has been eaten away? From the amount of rabbit droppings on the snow, our ploy has paid off.
As the snow melts, intricate winter highway system of voles, moles, and field mice becomes apparent. Their snow tunnel system collapses and creates interesting patterns. (And makes Bubby and Jolene’s job much easier.)
Goats really don’t like wet weather. And they really don’t like mud. It’s quite a conundrum for them when the barn door opens at last at the end of winter and they’re met with rain.
Is there a prize for spotting the first growth of the year? Here’s a garlic shoot planted last fall, emerging from a sodden garden.
At least the rain accentuates what little color there is during one of the least colorful times of year.
John won’t be taking the tractor out to the field any time soon.
The geological formations in our region are called “karst.” Many of our hills are actually covered canyon and cave systems (such as the infamous Howe cavern.) It makes us a little wary when we spot the ground opening up in spots. We couldn’t even see the bottom of this hole, and it sounded like the water was dropping a good distance. Let’s hope it fills in with mud!
No more ice skating on the pond.
So much snow melt, the ground can’t absorb it.
Looks like the birth of a new river. What should we call it?
The pond has breached its banks.
This stream feeding the pond is usually no more than a trickle, and dry during most of the summer.
More pond run-off
The end of the barn that houses the new kids is shut off from the weather. Cold and damp is never a good combination for babies of any species.
Can you imagine the cacaphony of both the rain on the tin roof plus hundreds of baby goats? PolkaSpot is not getting her beauty sleep.