The breath of false spring swept across the mid winter landscape, buttressed by steady rains that swept away ice and snow. The homestead ponds, low from months of scant precipitation, filled again. The flock of patchwork ducks romped happily, their feathers soft as velvet from hours of washing and oiling. As I watched them from the door of the greenhouse, framed by the arch of garden trellises as they played in the pond, it looked like a scene from an old-fashioned children's book. Winter...

The last of the homegrown apples sat in a bin on the porch, looking like a gaggle of old crones ready to share laughs over stories from their younger years. They were russets, dense and firm, known for their storage properties. The porch was too dry and cold for pristine preservation, but those conditions concentrated their sugars, making them perfect for one final fresh apple pie. The yard is filled with puddles in the sun and ice in the shade as temps spike up to 10-20 degrees above average...

The soft-snow coated the gardens where the white calico crept, belly deep, stalking any wayward rodent who dared to enter her domain. Sounds were muted by the snow layer and warmer temps - until the door to the coop was opened and the calls of gleeful duckies echoed across the yard. Temps closer to freezing were a welcome respite from the single digit readings that had kept them stuck inside the coop and greenhouse complex for weeks. We had a break from our cold streak this past week - though...