But here is spring, and how I love it so.
The ewes look internally with contented eyes. Their lambs slumber at their sides.
The plants are awakening, and the buds are bursting.
The birds are singing, remembering their old songs and practising again, again and again. Striving for perfection and for the perfect mate.
They make the lambing shed their home. There are robins, blackbirds, dunnocks, and little wrens in the shed. If I creep in especially quietly, I can see them sampling some crumbs of feeding left by the sheep, but it's only very occasionally that I can manage to be that quiet. We also have a regular visitor in a stunning male pheasant. He likes to visit the hay hecks, and check for fallen grains. The rabbits pop in and out, pretending not to see Mo-farah, the cockerel, or his ladies. They see me though, and scarper when I appear. I don't mind this wilding of the lambing shed. In fact, I like it. This is what I do this for. The world and it's life.
There's still a chill, but what I love are when the ewes outside lamb out there. They've learnt at night to tuck their lambs underneath the old hecks that are in the field. With the lamb under cover and the mother lying close to them, them tucked against her belly or her back, they're snug as a bug in a sheepskin rug.
The rooks are getting themselves organised in the tall trees above the house. Most of the trees have been removed (not by us, I hasten to add...), and so the space is obviously in high demand. I've already found an egg that's been laid this year, and then fallen from the nest. Whether by accident or design, I don't know, but it's such chaos up there just now that either is entirely possible.
So, that's spring, or the beginning days of it, and it also brings promise - of life, of what happens next, and that the end is not nigh. And that's just perfect.