Yesterday was unseasonably hot. We topped out somewhere between 85* and 90*, and without any leaves on the trees yet, there was no outdoor refuge from the sun. We picnicked in the thin shade of a pine, reading books and enjoying a snacky lunch of cucumbers and apple slices, cold green beans and blueberries.

A toasty breeze was blowing, so we put the new clothesline through its paces. Four loads dried quickly, flapping and cracking in the wind. I’ll admit that I neglected the hamper for longer than I should have in anticipation of line-drying, so the pile was already pretty tall, but we’re still waging war on nighttime potty-training and the pile of bedclothes is also growing. I’d say I made it about a third of the way through what was waiting to be washed.

We met up with some friends after school hours for a quick trip to the lake. Their family camp is in a secluded cove, a gorgeous and peaceful spot. Just last week there was ice on the lake, but yesterday the water was such a relief. I waded in only up to my knees, bunching my skirt up in my hands, but the children – oh, the children! Sunscreened and soaked, they splashed and squealed, hollering with delight at regaining their fins after months in boots. Swee commandeered a little kayak and paddled around and around. It was so pleasant, we stayed later than planned and made it home just in time to scrape some dinner together.

Now, I won’t complain too much about the heat yesterday. We’re not so far out from ice and snow and subzero temperatures for all that nonsense. But I will say it was too much, too soon. Today was a properly gloomy and drizzly spring day, and I am glad of it.

I worked from the second floor porch this morning, answering email with my feet propped up on the railing and my coffee on an overturned sap bucket. A slight breeze came down from the farmer’s field above us and I could hear J and Swee chatting and doing chores. It got steadily cooler as the day went on, the heavens opening up into a nice soaking rain. Everything glowed emerald, damp and lush.

The baby chickens moved out of the basement earlier this week in anticipation of several warm nights. They’ve grown enough that they could make the vertical leap out of the brooder box when the lid was lifted, and at six weeks old tomorrow, they’re mostly feathered. It was time. So far, they seem to like the transitional coop, our first coop that J refers to as Ft. Knox. They found the water and food, and I caught them attempting the roost this evening.

I made soup for dinner with Maine potatoes and local sausage and some of my homemade chicken stock. Warm and filling. My people had been busy outside while I was at my desk today, organizing the shed and the workshop. It’s beginning to look as though we live here, and everything is sprouting new growth. I was glad to see that the majority of our raspberries survived the winter – yesterday’s brief summer coaxed out some leaves. Our girls gathered handfuls of daffodils to bring inside, and they’re scattered around the first floor in bunches, a welcome pop of color among the mess we’re too tired to clean up. My favorite flowers, and a sure sign of spring. I think we’ll have some normal weather over the next week – 60s and 70s. That’s more like it.