I've been thinking lately that the trillium is probably coming up and blooming and today I was outside doing a little cutting back and trimming (little being the key word here) and sure enough.
Such a magical plant to my eyes.
I spent time outside today, doing some of this and some of that. The hen house has fresh straw in the nests and I cut back the firespike that froze last week. I picked up some downed branches and hauled everything to the burn pile. It wasn't one of the indigo-sky winter days that make you want to call up your own personal idea of a god and say "Thanks!" to because it was partially cloudy but it wasn't unpleasant out by any means.
Here's a picture I took this morning of one of the hens telling a sister-wife on the nest in the pump house where some of them like to lay, "Hurry up, girl! Your time is up!"
Technically, it is Gibson's turn but there's some sort of youth duck-hunting thing happening tomorrow morning and Owen is fulfilling his grandfather's dream by agreeing to get up before dawn and go out into the cold wearing camo with him to shoot at innocent birds.
I doubt that too many ducks will actually be killed in the making of that movie but who knows? I always feel like I have to apologize when I talk about Mr. Moon's hunting, especially if it involves Owen, but I knew the man was a hunter when I married him and that's just the way it is. Some of his very best memories from childhood involve going hunting with his daddy. It means a great deal to him. I think it is something primal, and having known his father and knowing my husband, I can honestly say that both men were and are examples of the most gentle-men I've ever known. Owen, too, is a gentle boy, as tender and sweet with his sister and other younger children as anyone could wish for.