Spring is on her way in. It can be evidenced in the constant winds, the heavy snows, and the slowly warming temps. The manure stacks along our Hugelkultur beds have finally thawed enough for me to spread them over the last of the beds. This is a task I have been longing to complete. We will finish it just in time to add a layer of topsoil and plant some spring seedlings.
This afternoon, as I was spreading the manure and straw, I came across some cow pats with whole barley still in them. I know these are from last September, just after Deluxe had calved. I didn’t have my sprouting routine quite down, so she got a few handfuls of whole barley to help her get reacquainted with the stanchion. It makes me sad to spread the last of her manure over my garden. It feels foolish, in fact, because it is shit and you can’t cry over shit. But then I realize that I am craving the realization that a piece of her will help to nourish my family one last time, and that doesn’t seem like an entirely foolish thing to crave. So I let the hot tears stream silently down my cheeks, foolish or not. After all, it’s my garden, and I can cry if I want to.