As a transplanted midwesterner, I always find what is called "winter' here in Oregon more like what we Minnesotans would call "late spring". I find myself believing it is really summer-because there is green grass and buds on the trees, dafs poking up.
Now, this photo is from a summer gone by, up on Mud Hill. This time of year–no matter how sunny–finds the grass struggling to grow, and I yearn for the fields to be full of bud again. My sheep need the nourishment and eek out enough with hay supplementing them, but I prefer to have full bellies when they return to the barn.
In May I will be saying the sheep can't keep up and we might need to mow a field or two. In any case, the weather has been mild and sunny, and I am so enjoying every minute. Soon we will be walking on Muddy Hill, and the scene you see here today will be once again in my view, in the real.
