In the last few days, I’ve felt a hint of Spring in the air. Here in Utah, we’ve had a couple of days where the temperatures have reached the low sixties. That hasn’t happened since October!
I love when Utah’s dry winter air becomes moist from the snow melting off the pastures and the mountains. Since marrying my husband and moving to the farmlands of Northern Utah, Spring has become my favorite time of year.
I really enjoy watching the dead fields begin to wake up. The first hint of green always comes from the winter wheat. The grass-like shoots emerge from the ground in an almost unnatural shade of chartreuse that matures into a mass of Kelly green. After the fields, the willow trees get feathery and bright. Then the lawns…
Well, all the lawns but mine. Just as a plumber’s wife has the worst leaks, a farmer’s wife has the worst lawn. And since I’m allergic to grass, I’m not very keen on taking care of it myself.
With the hint of Spring in the air, I can also sense the old, familiar “Farmer’s PMS” making an appearance. My husband hates to see his vacation come to an end (if you can call it a vacation when he works six hours a day instead of eighteen) but he’s also antsy to get out to the fields. So, the farmers congregate at fencelines and in the yard to speculate on how long it will be before they can get the tractors out without sinking up to their axles. Strapping young boys have begun knocking on my door, hoping to snag a summer job. Even the animals are anxious to be let loose. Meanwhile, the farmers’ wives just want their husbands to stop grousing and pacing and checking the weather.
Nevertheless, here at home, we stuff our days full of “together time” before the drilling begins. We go to movies and out to dinner, watch pay-per-view and eat at the family table. Because all too soon, we’ll be having our “together time” eating sandwiches or make-shift dinners in the swather or the cab of a combine.