I cannot wait for spring. It’s the last day of February, my arms are feeling the weight of the snow that fell last week, and I’m pining for the smell of green grass. I want to let my chickens out to eat poo flies and scratch my compost heap into happy food for my garden. I want to let the cows eat living things and not have to saw rafts of last year’s hay off of round bales. I want to see how far I can shoot an arrow without losing it in a four foot drift. I want to plant seeds and stand outside after the heat of the day has past and spray a fine mist of cool water on them to make them grow. I cannot wait for spring.