A Yard in Transition

When the snow melts, the Jolly balls and Frisbees sprout in the yard, coloring it, much like the crocuses and daffodils of spring. I take note of the Jolly balls. A few are deflated. All are missing their handles, chewed off years ago. A Frisbee is torn nearly in half. Another has bite marks. I consider throwing away the worst ones, but they are the ones the dogs like best. So they stay. Soon, clumps of feather and hair join the toys. The ram, who rubs against the wire fence, sheds clumps of red. The ewes match that with clumps of white. Although the pony is at camp, I still find strands of her white mane and tail. And, of course, we have chicken feathers -- down and tail and wing. All these will become less noticable in the coming week, when the green grass of spring grows, covering some, muting others.