Say it ain't so . . . . It ain't! :)

We had just finished watching the Russell Crowe remake of the classic Western "3:10 to Yuma." Bill asked my sister Laurie to punch the remote back to the regular TV in fear that we wouldn't be able to figure out how to do it ourselves once she left. Laurie happily punched the correct button.

The weather graphic for the next ten days was on Channel 2. All but two days had snowflakes or raindrops and cold temperatures. The forecaster said that if we wait until next Tuesday, April 1--er Fool's---we might see some springlike days----maybe even in the 50s. I put my head on the counter, took a deep breath and did my best not to say those naughty words or to cry out loud in front of my family.

Of course, outside on this earliest Easter in 200 years, the snow from afternoon had turned to full-fledged rain. It had been the dreariest of dreary Easters. I hadn't even gone to Mass because of discovering the beginnings of new sink holes out in the barnyard. Remember those three last December when horses fell in---one by the barn, two in the pen where they stay during winter months? Well, these were some new holes.

The snow and ice had thawed enough on that one nice Easter Saturday to open up some new holes. I sank almost to my knees in in some places. So, the morning was spent back and forth between the sand pile, our neighbor had dumped on the hole by the barn, and the holes along the trench for the new water line. I also brought a couple of loads of manure from the pile to use as temporary fill.

The alternate field where the horses can go during our newest destructive era, "Sink Hole Season," has no fence because the snow all but destroyed it. After getting the ham in the oven and the table set for our Easter guests---Mother, Barbara and Laurie---I went out and surveyed the field leading to the loafing shed. I could shut one gate, but not the one on the hill, which was blocked off by a major snowbank. I looked at the fence along Meserve's boundary. It was all sagging or completely down, but there was hope.

If Bill could remove the snowbank in front of the gate, and the other panel gates. We could shut off the loafing shed from enquiring equine minds. I could easily fix that fence along Meserves because all it involved was putting the wires back on the fence holders and because the big trees along the border had caused the snow to clear away from most of the fence.

With that plan in mind, I went back to the house and continued to work on the Easter feast while watching NCAA games. Later, in the rain and snow, we did what we could to get that pasture ready should we need it. It's not a good situation, but it's better than having horses step in sink holes and break their legs.

Mother and my sisters showed up at 3 with scalloped potatoes and bright yellow daisies in hand. Mother had already brought the cream pies on Saturday. Pita accompanied them and the doggie wrestling matches with her friendly foe Kia began in earnest. There were occasional near trippings of the main cook in the kitchen, but the girls were kind enough to keep most of the action away from my feet.

While heavy-duty NCAA commentary among three knowledgeable women and one man took place in the living room during the North Carolina rout of Arkansas, I finished the last-minute items for our delectable feast. Mother announced during the meal, "Well, I'm proud that I raised daughters who are good cooks." Coming from my mother, a cook extraordinaire, that was a compliment.

We turned on the movie which we've been trying to watch off and on for a month. About the third time Russell Crowe's character, a very ethical and culturally endowed murderer who adored green-eyed women, killed another character simply because the victim made him mad, I asked for the pie orders. Usually Annie does that dessert task, but Annie wasn't there. Three cherry cheesecakes, one half and half for Mother who also wanted chocolate cream, and one Schwan's apple alamode for me.

We ate our pie and watched as Russell Crowe was finally delivered to the 3:10 to Yuma. A lot of bad stuff happened then, and Laurie protested that movies should end that way. She loves her Westerns but hates bad endings.

Well, the ending got worse with the weather forecast. I spent the rest of the evening contemplating how I was going to get through the emotional depression of one more week of winter. I told Bill I'd take the Adirondack chairs out to the barn and paint them. At least, that would get me out of the house and, at least, something could be done to prepare for a spring that never seems to come.

That was last night. IT AIN'T SO!!! That weatherman did not speak the truth. There's not a cloud in the sky. The wind blew overnight. We did have a freeze, meaning no new sink holes this morning, at least for a while. It's a gorgeous morning, and that is all I need to yell, "Glory Hallelujah. Thank You, God!" I've already done that a couple of times.

I'll take faulty weather forecasts like last night's any day, and I'd better get out and enjoy it because you've all heard that "wait five minutes' forecast."