Spring yet?

The last few days have been tantalizingly warm. Its enough to give brown fields just a hint of green, encourage the hens to lay a few more eggs, and to infect me with an unwholesome level of spring fever. Some of you naughty folks out there might think I'm talking birds and bees here, but not so fast. This is that kind of spring fever that makes a person tear apart closets, scrub every inch of the kitchen, and then go for a run. What's the problem? Well, its february, so the logical part of me is cringing every time I start a new springy project because ITS STILL WINTER. This bait and switch happens every year, teasing us with t-shirt weather and then throwing in a few more inches of ice just when we're starting to put our winter clothes away. Its so hard not to be elated at the chirping of frogs and the return of our mockingbird. As you can surely tell, I'm not a winter person.
In other news, we're kidding now. (Possibly my favorite farm-life expression ever) This is the time of year the baby goats are born, and also I resume milking. The nicer weather has also been good for the goats, since few newborns (of any species) like to worry about their ears freezing and breaking off. It doesn't actually get that cold down here in AR, but it is true that I whine a lot when births are happening and its 25 degrees out. So far there are 3 kids "on the ground" from 2 does, both of which are dairy goats. One of the does, "Mama," is a seasoned pro at the baby-makin' and milking thing, but the other is the goat equivalent of a teenager. I identify with her a lot as a first time mom. She's extremely watchful of her kid and obnoxiously weary of everything. I'm proud of her for taking her job so seriously, but not so excited to teach her the finer points of standing placidly while someone of a foreign species steals her baby's only source of nutrition. Luckily this is a job for tomorrow. Today we'll just marvel together at how painfully adorable our babies are.

Speaking of cute kids, mine has discovered hide and seek. Here's how it goes: Honey pulls her shirt/dress/whatever cloth is available up over her face and waits for us to say "Where's Honey?" in a singsong-y voice, then she whips it down and looks around to see if we are sufficiently excited. Then we say, "There she is!" and everyone, Honey included, cheers. Repeat. She LOVES this game, playing over and over until we take away whatever cloth she's hiding behind. Even if I leave the room for a few minutes and come back, she'll pick it up where we left off. Aparently, it doesn't make any sense to her if we do the hiding, she just finds something else to do.