Poor April has been struggling to assert her springy nature. Yesterday it snowed. The day before it hailed. Today I wore a hat and gloves, puddles were ice-wrinkled, frosty hummocks of field grass stood at stiff attention, my feet crunched over mud and meadow. If it weren't for the optimism of the bird population, and a few promising buds on a pussy-willow tree, I might imagine it to be November.
But the sunrise was a good one, and the moon was lovely.
Even though I kept him on a leash due to the early hour and his penchant for baying at nothing, Guster enjoyed an exuberant roll in the grass. Unfortunately, across the field Clara enjoyed an exuberant roll in something more pungent, tantalizing only to dogs. That's one of the down sides to the spring thaw. And Kate was just exuberant with a stick.
Looks like a good day.