ON GOLDEN UNICORN FARM

Here near the base of Green Mountain, now that the sun and the temperature are rising earlier over the ridge, the landscape is shedding its winter cloak once again.  I've noticed the arrival of several spieces of birds over the past few weeks and just before the last snowfall, hopefully winter's last, I saw a flock of robins, one of nature's harbingers of spring, cheerfully chirrupping admist the remaining clots of snow in a farmer's field.  Although I have a labor intensive spring ahead of me, ripping down a neighbour's barn and then using the lumber to build a small goat shed, chicken coop for 50 chickens, a fence, not to mention planting a large garden here on Golden Unicorn Farm, I'm ready for a renaissance, if you will, a new beginning for this old sailorman.

The last snowfall, which dumped a foot of snow in what seemed an inch per minute caught us by surprise as Sarah and I returned from the Woodstock Farmer's Market via Houlton, Maine, last Friday afternoon.  Old Buddy, our big-assed 3/4 ton diesel truck, without the aid of its 4-wheel drive (broken) did its best to get us home; the depth of the snow almost too much.  We went off the road, much to Buddy's dismay, while turning off the US highway and were pulled out of the ditch by a passing motorist.  On almost every hill, before reaching the US/Canada border, I had to get out and push on the back corner of the truck to keep it from sliding into the deep ditches; I'd swear old Buddy was part crab as it climbed the hills almost sideways.  This has been our first year in Fosterville, New Brunswick and from what I've heard, the snowfall has been one of the heaviest within the last 20 years.  Besides the harsh winter conditions making it difficult for Buddy to get around, the forest creatures, many of which are seen quite often on the wild portion of our land or even strolling through our yard, has taken a heavy toll.   Apparently the deer population has been hit very hard; 40% having succumbed to the brutality of winter.  Before deer season arrives this year, I'll be putting up some no hunting signs around the property - don't want the hunters blasting the deer or our livestock, the goats and the unicorns grazing in the field.

I probably shouldn't have mentioned the unicorns; now we'll most likely start getting us a passle of camera-toting tourists here at Golden Unicorn Farm.  I used to think they were just mythical creatures from a long past era, but by gosh, last summer when I was wandering through our goldenrod in the top field; if I didn't come across one!  I always thought they were large animals but this one didn't stand much higher than the top of the goldenrod.  For a moment, like we'd both been gob-slapped, we stood gaping at one another and then, what sounded like a horse's nicker, it suddenly reared up, spun around, and trotted off into the forest, glancing over its shoulder a few times, most likely making certain I wasn't following.  After it had disappeared into the verdant forest, I had to give my head a shake to see if I'd been asleep and dreaming - but no - I was wide awake!  I would have understood, if the animal had been a deer with a misshaped antler, but it's glistening golden coat wasn't even the same color.  I haven't seen the unicorn since and there's a possibiltiy it's been one of winter's fatalities.  However, I've got a good feeling that when the goldenrod is glowing under the coming warm summer sun; the unicorn will return.

The sun is shining brightly this morning and I can already hear the snow melting; telling me to get off this computer and begin my day.  Tomorrow morning, Sarah and I will climb into old Buddy and head off to the Farmer's Market to hopefully sell a load of her Green Mountain-fresh, good-tasting bakery goods.  The drive and the market place make a nice break; made some new friends there, who, like us, are trying to sell their farm goods and crafts.  Yup, I feel a renaissance on the horizon for this old sailorman - looking forward to feeling the warm earth in my hands, smelling the fresh air and hearing the livestock.

Cheers - eh!