April in January

I slipped out the door yesterday with only a light wool jacket over my work clothes. Even then, I wondered if I had over dressed; with temperatures kissing 60, it felt like a late April morning: saturated ground, swollen streams, thawed earth smells, and gamboling cattle.

By the time I had opened the next row of hay bales, rain had begun to fall and a vivid  rainbow had developed.  By the time I made it back to the house through the shower, I was thankful to have the protection of my wool jacket.

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