8:28 AM Goodness! I didn't realize that I haven't posted at all this month! Life really has been busy. This past week I had to plan and present a prayer study for women in the church and read, plan, and present a lesson in one of my classes, and still do all my school work. Everything went smoothly, but took up my computer fun time.

Going Out Like a Lamb

That's a nice sentiment; March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. The problem is, whoever made this up didn't know lambs very well. Oh, I know, they LOOK fuzzy and warm and cuddley, but they have characteristics beyond that soft wool (which, by-the-way, is usually full of hay, briars and prickers, burdocks, dirt, and some stuff we won't mention).

One of these characteristics is that they can find their way out of any fence. At least all of ours could. No matter how you staked the fence, they could get out. Second, they have very hard hooves, tiny and sharp on lambies, which get used in all sorts of ways. Third, they go anywhere they want, find your prize flowers, the ripening melons, the pumpkins, or the bushels of ripe tomatoes, and eat them.

I never had goats for several reasons, but I think goats get bad raps for their eating habits. Lambs will eat anything. I mean anything, like the aforementioned gladiolas one has composted, weeded, and babied along all summer, only to see them disappearing, stalk and all, down the gullet of the lambs.

We had a porch along the front of our 125-year old house when we lived in NH. The wooden floor was irresistible to the lambs (we had 4 that year). They loved the sound of their hard little hooves running up and down the porch. This clatter was usually my first inclination that they were loose again. The neighbors across the road could hear them, too, they made so much noise.

That summer, our eldest son had sown and cultivated some miniature Indian corn that he intended to sell to the local museum. He had made these arrangements himself and was very proud of his harvest that fall. And he had a right to be proud. The corn was brilliant in its colors, every miniature ear completely filled out. To dry the corn, he had painstakingly peeled back the husk on each tiny ear, leaving the husk for decorative purposes.

Are you ahead of me here? Yes, we put them in bushel baskets on the front porch awaiting time to take them to the museum. The lambs got out. You got it. By the time we realized they were having more fun than usual clattering around on that porch, it was way too late. The baskets had been dumped out, the lambs had eaten some of the corn, but had discovered it was much more fun to trample the little ears all over the porch. When we got out there, the lambs were skittering and skidding around, and every ear was minus its lovely, colorful kernels.

Child was devastated; parents felt a little foolish for setting those baskets on the porch in the first place; and the museum went without the tiny little corn jewels. But, you know, when child wasn't around to hear, we had to laugh at the sight of those renegade lambs running up and down the porch, scattering kernels everywhere.

The year our youngest was six, he befriended one of the lambs. It was a wonderful summer for kids on the farm. They were outside all the time, playing games that I'm sure I wouldn't have approved of if I had been aware of them. But youngest's favorite game was head-butting with Trevor, the little ram. Son would push against Trevor's head, and Trevor would push back. Parents mentioned that Trevor wouldn't always be such a little lamb, but son and lamb loved this game. Son would also throw a cardboard up in the air and Trevor would catch it on his head, toss his head and the box would fly up for son to catch.

These two youngsters were great friends that summer. It was cute to see. What no one noticed was that Trevor, with all this love and attention, the good grass (and gladiolas) and organic grain, was growing. Or, I should say, grOWING. One early fall day, I heard son calling, "Mom, mom, moommmmy!" I opened the back door, and there was my child, treed on top of the old Rambler we used as a farm vehicle, and Trevor was trying to get to him. Oh, he just wanted to play, but by now he was nearly a 100 pounds and the butting game was just too much for the boy.

Trevor was also the leader of the Korn Kaper.

March 10 I didn't get a chance to post the above because we left for my belated birthday trip to my favorite little Canadian town, Niagara-on-the-Lake. We spent the night on a "package" in a luxurious Inn, ate in three different lovely restaurants, and generally rested. I took along my schoolbooks, and while DB took a nap, I finished my homework.

Yesterday it was in the 70's; people were bicycling, skateboarding, walking, in their shirt sleeves. This morning it was snowing and in the low 30's. Big change! We left after a wonderful brunch, and stopped to see some of our Pretty Bay friends. After catching up with all the folk from the Bay (the gal we visited phones everyone a couple times during the winter), we left for home in snow and 50-MPH wind gusts.

DB struggled to keep the truck on the road in the wind, and we drove through several small whiteouts, but we got home without serious incident. I need to leave for school in the a.m., so I hope the weather forecasters are right and the snow stops tonight!

It was a welcome "retreat" for the two of us. We spend little time together, these days, so a quiet evening in a comfortable and attractive hotel, playing cribbage, was just what the doctor ordered. And I managed to get my homework done without interfering with our time together.

Life is good; thanks be to God. Amen

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