After days of rain, I enjoyed a 24 hr respite yesterday.  It was a day to do some organizing, and some house cleaning.  I even cleaned the filters of my Mitsubishi heating unit.  It was wonderful to have some sunshine and even blue sky to take a break from the long days of rain.  The moon even shone last night, leading up to tonight’s full moon, which I won’t be seeing.

Today, there is rain again, as promised.  It’s Oregon, so one can expect rain, but this is even more rain than Oregon typically sees.  February set a new record of rainfall, and the totals so far this year are very close to the typical annual rainfall total.  Since it’s only March, that is saying something.

The mountains have a record amount of snow, and if we do have another dry summer, there should be plenty of left over water to carry us through the dry season.

I’ve spoken about mud on the farm before.  It’s more than just mud.  It’s like a quick sand of brown syrup that sucks your boot in and seals it tightly from all sides.  It can be downright treacherous for anyone, but for age 60+ women who trudge through it while feeding animals, it is especially hazardous.  I’ve taken on the feeding chores lately, as the lady of the farm got stuck in the mud a few weeks back, and ultimately lost her balance and tore her leg muscle.  She’s been wearing a special boot while her leg heals.

The frogs have begun to chirp.  That’s one of the signs of Spring here on the farm.  I have been looking at the buds on various bushes, and I am anxiously awaiting the onslaught of Spring.  This will be my first Spring back in Oregon.  It’s been a long, long time since I experienced Spring here.  Something like 37 years!

As I anticipate, I must remain in the present.  With each season that changes, we encounter changes of our own.  I will attend a memorial service today for a lady whom I have known nearly all of my life.  And superimposed over that, I got word of a dear friend, age 65 in Tennessee, who had a stroke yesterday.  They took her off life support this morning, and she passed into glory.  On Tuesday, I plan to attend another memorial service, this time for the husband of a friend that I knew in High School.  Time passes, seasons change, and life continues on earth….

So, as the rain falls here on the farm, I breath in and breath out, and I know that I’m alive.  I hope that I can make a lot more of the dash that falls between those two dates…the birth date, and the death date.  I smile at the footprints that others have made through my life, and I hope to be able to leave good footprints in the many lives I pass through.  In the end, that is all we can hope for.  Leave good memories, good footprints, and hope to hear those words from God:  “Well done, thy good and faithful servant.”

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