There were all sorts of signs. One by one these signs sort of tapped me on the shoulder, trying to get my attention.
My husband has fallen in love. There seems to be nothing I can do about it. I met her, and I have to admit, I see the fascination.
The sweet eyes, the lovely long eyelashes, which he had the nerve to tell me is one of his favorite things about her beauty. He even has the nerve to refer to her as Pretty Girl, and he spends most of his free time with her these days. I try to talk to him and he nods and pretends to be listening to me, but an hour later, it is quite clear that he didn’t hear a single word I just said.
She is a pretty little filly. There is no denying that. OK, she is an American Quarter Horse filly, and the little thing is downright adorable. She was born here on our farm two weeks ago, and nothing has been quite the same since.
Spring has sprung on the farm, and the lush green pastures and hay fields are great proof that we did indeed survive another winter.
Life is good. I have been happily busy with puppies being born, and older puppies needing to be trained. Between it all, I have enjoyed watching the return of all the songbirds, with a great population of blue birds coming back to our farm to lay eggs in our blue bird boxes.
Pretty colors fly through the large old trees outside my window as I write this — the vibrant yellow of the gold finch, the royal red of the cardinal, and yesterday I saw the unmistakable orange of the Baltimore oriole.
One of the surprises on this farm remains, and we have named him Holden. When our English Shepherd had a litter of unexpected puppies, we slowly placed each one in new homes. Except for Holden. He was the teddy bear leader of the pack and he endeared himself to every single person who is a part of things here. It didn’t take long to convince us that he was meant to stay.
When I let my tiny Yorkie out to run around, Holden tries to convince her to stay out and play. He lays down and rolls over and then tries to wrap his front paws around her in a bear hug.
One of his favorite things to do is to chase a squirrel up a tree, and he seems so proud of himself after accomplishing this. He struts back to the porch with a happy swagger. He is charming and adorable, and maybe I could be accused of having fallen in love with him.
Turnabout is fair play, so they say!