Yesterday, the wind was howling around 40 miles per hour. It was cold, about 40 degrees, and misty, raining on and off all day long.
And yet, last night, I found a definate absolute sign that spring is really here.
No, it wasn't the chicks, it wasn't the daffodills, or the eleven kittens who were born on our place with in the last month or so, and, it had nothing to do with it being track meet season either.
I found a tick.
In my hair, crawling up some hair right beside my face. [insert shudder here]
I hate ticks. HATE ticks.
And I don't know where he came from. All ticks are "he". Nasty little blood suckers that they are...
I wasn't around any trees, or in any tall grass. The only animals I was near was the cats, who I didn't hold (well, ok, I held a couple of kittens, but they are too small to be out and about) and the chickens who haven't even seen the sky yet.
I have no idea where this nasty little bloodsucker came from, but I'm glad he was still crawling when I found him. The only thing worse than finding a tick crawling on you is to find one that has his head stuck under your skin. [insert another shudder here]
If the ticks are out, it's spring.