And Don't Forget To Put Roses On My Grave

Winter is lingering like a lion, and yet it is going out like a lamb, and yet it is lingering like a lion.
Jack and I cut down a walnut tree about a week ago. Relax - it was a wild walnut off on the edge of the fields. Jack's gonna turn bowls. The sap had already started to rise, and the next day there was a puddle around the stump.
In more exciting news, the multi-flora roses is leafing out. And out and out.
And there's times when you disturb some grass, like you're doing some work and you crush the blades and the like, when, if the wind's just right, you get the faintest whiff of chlorophyll.
But the night before last it got down to 18 degrees, a bit colder than the greenhouses can handle and I lost a few trays of marigolds.
The maples are starting to look like they're about to do something, and the chickens are started to lay again, but winter lingers in the form of a few trays of dead flowers.