Spring races into focus, vibrant in its color, and rapid in its employment. The birds seem more animated, we’ve watched them gathering horse hair to line their nests, after Caleigh has groomed Tequila (The initially white farm horse, who quite often has found mud to bathe in.) The grass is now almost fluorescent, after shedding its winter shroud. The sheep are followed around the pasture by their little delicate babies, grazing in an idyllic setting that Maxfield Parish would covet. All the gray shrubs have come out of their dormancy, and now parade about in the most festive of costumes. (Yes, a straight man is writing this, happily married and father of one.) It is such an incredible display of spring, that comes quickly here. ( don’t even want to comment on that)
But as I have mentioned before, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. This may not be for the faint of heart, but in all the surreal beauty there is the reality, farm life is about necessity. The dandelion and small white flowered pastures are a stunning visual, but in the back ground you hear the cows mooing with a deep angst for the calves that were taken away a few days ago. They have been sold for the needed income a farm requires to stay afloat. It is a deep mortal moo that they issue as if to direct their little ones back. Yes spring in the southern regions of France is glorious, but a price is paid for the panoramic beauty. You wonder how such docile creatures have endured for the ages, with the perpetual rites of spring.
On a brighter, much brighter note, there is also the comical, the rooster that wakes us up at five a.m., now has a pupil, for the past couple weeks the little bantam will echo, although in an adolescent call, the older seasoned rooster. We have nicknamed the little pupil, snooze, after the alarm clock setting that goes on after the initial rooster.
And Cindy, who is a sundial , has been stalking any signs of spring that remotely start to show promise of budding, she is happy. We made a trip to Marmand to get a basic spring outfit. She has kept a eye skyward, hoping the southern French countryside would deliver the promise it has always held for her.
Caleigh has also gotten her report card, and she did quite well. For an English speaking kid to be dumped into a French local school, and to have caught on so adeptly, we are very proud. The assistant principal said she would be more than welcomed back, which says so much about her integration into this environment. It probably helped that she had a French boyfriend, as her conversational French was boosted by his influence. But enough about that aspect about spring.