Dear Friends and Family,

A small group of students and two teachers arrived here on Monday. They had volunteered to come during their school break to help with sheep shearing. Unfortunately the temperatures have been down in the twenties at night- much too cold for sheep suddenly without their woolly coats. So the students helped with clipping their hooves. The ritual is the same as for shearing. Lure the whole flock into a small pen with two sections. Open second section. Try to persuade one to move into it. Quickly close that off. Wrestle animal to the ground. Hold head and legs down. Check eyes for anemia. Check fur for ticks. Clip or file hooves.

Of course after one or two sheep have been through this process and returned to the group none of the others is willing to come into the clipping area. So then the process is to catch one, have several people grab horns, handfuls of wool, and whatever else, then walk her into the area. Always there must be someone pushing from behind.

Meanwhile the lambs stand outside the clipping pen baa-ing for their moms. Quite a cacaphony: a pair of two month-olds, and four month-old lambs, including another pair. (The little one mentioned in last month's journal is doing fine). The happy ending to this event was to see the whole flock literally run from the pen to a low bridge Paul had made last month and on into the wonderfully green pasture on the other side of the creek.

Our pastures are lush and green, having survived several nights of hard frost. Until last week it seemed things were almost a month ahead of the usual blooming time. Redbuds and white dogwoods were spectacularly full of blossoms. Fields were greening up. Afternoon temperatures were close to 80. On Palm Sunday I could hardly drive to Campbellsville because I just kept wanting to stop to "take in" the redbuds. By Good Friday I was driving to church through snow showers so dense I could hardly read the banners in Edmonton proclaiming April as Redbud Tour Month. The blossoms are gone. I felt the loss particularly on Easter morning as I drove to Campbellsville: that same landscape bereft of glorious blossoms. I wonder what will happen to the trees.

On cold, windy Good Friday Mark and Kathy, parents of our intern Brett, arrived for the weekend. They had to repack their suitcases just before leaving home: replacing shorts and sandals with winter gear. Because of the extreme weather all three stayed in the new house. Sasha warmed the place up for them, feeding the woodstove with kindling and logs he split himself. On Easter our neighbor Mel joined all of us for dinner. We enjoyed our first home-grown leg of lamb and asparagas from our friends Allison and Paul. (They farm in "high tunnels" which are unheated green houses that allow a crop to ripen a month or so ahead of the "outside" season. Unfortunately we enjoyed the last of their asparagas. That crop plus their strawberries and broccoli did not survive the freezing nights and cold, windy days. In fact they almost lost one of their tunnels to the wind).

We had set and covered one thousand broccoli plants just before the freeze so we think they will be okay. Same for our strawberry plants just starting to bud. The wonderfully hardy spinach survived uncovered but not the beets. Other greens, covered, seem to be okay. We'll see. I heard on the radio this morning that the governor may be asking for Federal disaster relief for devastated apple and peach orchards.

The above-mentioned students had an additional "consolation" for the postponed shearing. They got to help with milking Blue Bell. Then they packed ice and salt in the churn to make their own ice cream for two meals. We've only had the ice-cream maker for a little over a week. We've had ice cream almost every day.

Over the past few weeks Madeline and I have been baking honey cakes. We read in one of the Pooh books about Pooh and Roo trying to make a honey cake with flower. So I am Pooh and she is Roo and we use flour to make our honeycake. She can print her own name as well as "Roo", "Kanga" (Robin), and "Pooh". She likes to point out the names as we read the stories.

The St Andrew's Market will open for the season on May 5, Derby Day. We will probably have a variety of greens and, maybe, some bedding plants. Suzanne has arranged for music and an art show for each first Saturday of the market. I can hardly believe that in less than a month I'll be loading the Dakota and heading for Saturday market at 7 am. Paul and Robin and family will drive with me to Glasgow for the first market. Then we'll all go to our friend Georgine's for the annual parish Derby Day party.

Springtime greetings to each of you, love, Louise