Still a few more weeks on the calendar, but when you can sit comfortably on the front porch, it's spring. Today, Karen took a break from her writing to sit on the front porch, on the glider, in the sun, with an old cat on her lap. Harry, our 15-year-old tabby, sat with her for a while (our younger tabby, Geordie, is tucked in beside Karen), then vanished. Apparently, he's got spring fever.
Karen and I walked Pepper down to Donovan's house so she could pick up a couple of books she'd sold on ebay and I could hammer in some T posts for the cattle fencing. There was Harry sitting against a wall of the house, sucking up the sun. After spending the winter indoors, he'd decided it was time to get out and go for a wander. Karen later told me he followed her back up to the house and fell asleep. This evening, his legs are more stiff than usual. I guess I'll give him a second dose of Cosequin tonight.
After Pepper and I came back up to the house, he also went for a wander, and didn't reappear for three hours. He was, as they say, dog tired. Apparently, though, he didn't take a dip in the creek or go crashing through the spring. His paws were dirty, but not muddy.
I spent the afternoon hauling dead tree branches to our burn pile (yes, I used an ATV and trailer, but even so my blood sugar dropped below my normal threshold). My burn permit was reauthorized today, so I guess I'll torch the pile this week while the ground's still wet.