I was looking forward to yesterday with anticipation and trepidation. Not because it was my 33rd birthday (thanks to David and my mother for cash infusions against my vet bills), but because the snow finally melted. For the first time in three weeks I mucked the paddock with a manure fork and a wheelbarrow instead of a spade and a make-shift sled. And for the first time in three weeks I could see all the manure that had been hiding.
It took three hours and eight or nine (I lost count) runs to the manure pile, but the paddock is almost back to normal. Now all I have to do is move the stuff that I have been piling in the pasture up into the manure bins. Have I mentioned how badly I want Henry to grow a front-end loader?