The town that I live in has a population of only 5,000 people. We don’t have a mayor. We have boards – selectmen, health, finance, council on aging, etc. – and all of the positions are filled by volunteers that we vote for. Talk about transparency and accountability in government! When we vote, it is done on a paper ballot. No hanging chads, no computer glitches. The ballot is cranked into a secure box. When the voting ends, the ballots are counted. By volunteers. With one of our policemen in attendance.

Today was election day. There were no state referendums and nothing on the national agenda, and in fact, there were no contested elections here for any of the boards. I’m grateful that during this rushed and over-extended age that anyone is willing to take the time to volunteer. What’s astounding is that such capable, educated, and committed people are willing to work so hard for all us. So, voting is important, if only to show that we citizens recognize the service that these people give.

I voted this morning. To do so, first I got my horse out of his paddock, groomed him, and tacked him up. Tonka and I headed into the woods.

A mile later, after two muddy stream crossings, we emerged in the center of Carlisle,

at the town hall lot. The parking spots were all full,

so I decided to bring Tonka to the front door.

Steve is on the ballot – he’s running for his second term on the Library Board of Trustees – and he had just voted. So, I got off, handed the reins to him, and did my civic duty. Meanwhile, the volunteers who were manning the tables took a break to pet Tonka. Everyone was happy.

When I came out, I put my I Voted stickers on Tonka.

The Town Hall doesn’t have a mounting block, so I used a rock.

Off we went back down the trail to the stable. It’s good to do one’s civic duty.

There’s a reason that there’s an expression spring has sprung. One day there’s a hint of color on the trees, and, as if you’re living in a time-lapse video, all of sudden, the world is lushly green.

One day you notice a glimmer of pink on your favorite decorative cherry,

and you marvel at the buds.

Then, three days later, the bush bursts into glorious blooms.

You know that those flowers are coming, but still, the sheer beauty of it takes you by surprise. Every year your heart leaps at how pretty it is, as if you’ve never seen such a thing before.

Of course, there’s also the expression, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I don’t know what Lily thinks of visual beauty, but I do know that some smells are heavenly, rapturously, deliriously, wonderful to her. While I was marveling at the blooms, Lily had found something that my human senses couldn’t detect. Something thrilling to a dog. Lily rolled with the pleasure of a true connoisseur of beautiful odors.

There’s beauty all around.

I’ve no time to write a blog post today. This morning I’m off to teach four classrooms of second graders all about chickens, egg laying, feathers and the science of bird poop. What great topics! I’ll be bringing a hen, of course. I can’t wait to show the kids where the egg comes out. They all know that hens lay eggs, but they’ve never actually visualized that very last step!

I love my work.

For more about my programs for children, go to my School/Libraries page. By the way, the science of chicken poop is not just for kids, and I’ll be talking about it in the Chicken Keeping Workshop scheduled one for May 31. You can sign up here.

In this part of the country, we can expect a late frost, and so tender vegetables don’t safely go into the ground until mid-May or even June. However, the rule of thumb is that as soon as the ground can be worked, cold-hardy seeds can be sown. Early in April, the snow melted off of my raised beds, and I was able to get kale, peas, carrots and lettuce in.

Usually, I seed those crops at least twice, a few weeks apart, in order to harvest over the course of the summer. But, we haven’t had any hot days to warm up the dirt. We have had a lot of cold rain. You don’t want to muck about in the garden in the muck – it will compact soil that you’ve so carefully fluffed up and nurtured with compost and a light hand. Because of that, most of my vegetable garden still looks like this:

The seeds that I did sow in early April had a pitiful germination rate. Only about half of the snap peas have shown themselves. However, the shelling peas are looking okay.

The kale is just now braving the chilly spring.

Hopefully, by next week I’ll be able to plant more vegetables. Meanwhile, the one thing that this dreary spring weather is good for is grass. I’ve sectioned off the goat pasture, keeping the boys to one side. Yesterday I broadcast timothy seed onto the other.

Not that the goaties will suffer from hunger. They get their daily ration of hay, sweet feed every other day, I bring them greens, and I hand graze them a few times a week. Look at that belly!

The goats turned five on April 26. Dr. Sarah, their vet, came and gave them their yearly vaccines. I asked if they were, perhaps, a tad tubby. She said no! They’re just right. (The feeders to the left and right of the manger are for kelp and minerals, both essential to feed free-choice for the health of your goats.)

By the way- with the warmer weather, we leave the stall door open later. The goats like being out at night. So, don’t worry if you see them out after dark.

What’s growing in your garden?

It’s been a wet spring, and I live in a town with streams, rivers and vernal pools, so much of the land is squishy, soggy and muddy. Ponds are full. On the plus side, the frogs are joyously making a racket, the birds are singing, and all around there are green things sprouting up. On the downside, the insects are coming out.

Thankfully, we don’t have the voracious and vicious black flies that are the scourge of northern New England. But, we do have biting black gnats. When I visit Tonka, he tips his head towards me so that I can rub his ears. He’s not a show horse, and so I leave his ears fuzzy. Still, a few gnats manage to bite and make him itchy and bloody.

The gnats aren’t too bad in his paddock, but when I take Tonka out to graze, those insects swarm. To protect his ears, Tonka wears a little crocheted cap.

I think that he looks quite dashing in it. When we go for trail rides, he wears it under his bridle. I’ve seen photographs from a hundred years ago, when carriage horses wore hand-crocheted fly protectors, draped from ears to tail. Those fly scrims were elaborate, tasseled and white. However, I rather like the cheery blue.

Later on in the summer, when the deer flies come out (their bites are very painful), Tonka will wear a fly mask that will protect his eyes with a flexible screen. But, for now, this little cap does the job. At night, it’s still chilly enough that the gnats recede and so Tonka doesn’t have to wear anything. Which he prefers.