We should have started tapping earlier this year. It’s been an early thaw, despite the foot or so of snow still on the ground. Right now, we’re just hoping to collect enough to make it worth our while. I cleaned out the chicken coop last weekend, dumping the manure in the garden to rot and fertilize. Our chickens didn’t look as grateful as they should have, but I suppose it’s understandable. All but one of the local weathermen has predicted fifty degrees every day this week, and that weatherman is unreliably dire in his predictions.
When the temperature does drop, in the evenings, it drops quickly, though not too far. And the house is chilly for an hour or so while we light the stove again and wait for it to spread heat all around the room. Yarrow doesn’t seem to mind, but Luba spends the time curled up on her couch, nose under tail, looking like a bruised lily. I told Luba we might give her couch to Yarrow at some point, and Luba sighed - she feels unloved.
Last week my husband and I stayed up late talking, reading, and playing games. It was past midnight when we shut the stove down and went to bed. We don’t often do that, even before Yarrow, because we have a hard enough time getting up at five after a early night, but that day it was easy. We weren't tired, and in the morning, we woke refreshed. It might have been the warmth of the day, and the heavy rainfall in the night, or it might have been the coming scent of spring that woke us.
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