Barn cats are tough and hardy and know how to keep themselves warm in the winter. Flo lived in the rafters above our woodshed for a couple of years, she made a next out of kindling and old rags. Minnie used to sleep with the chickens at night, we left blankets and towels for her.

Both cats are getting older, and Minnie had a leg amputated a few years ago. On bitter cold nights and after snowstorms, we bring them into our basement, which is kind of natural cat heaven, replete with cat beds, a medium temperate of over 55 degrees, plenty of mice to chase and tunnels and crevices to explore.

Our cats are happy to go into the basement where it is dry and warm, and I am happy not to have five animals vying for space and attention in our small living room and farmhouse.

The Spring sun has appeared in the sky, and it is very different from the winter sun, it gives off a lot of warmth and the sheep have already started grazing, even though there is no green grass. Maria is like a strict Mother Superior when it comes to the barn cats, she lavishes attention on them when they are in the basement, but insists they spend some time outside unless the temperature is well below zero.

“Come on cats,” she announces sternly on cold mornings, “you need to spend time outside, otherwise you will be vampire cats.” She lures them out with food, and if they balk she storms down into the basement and carries them out. Minnie tries to sneak back in, but that is not permitted until late afternoon, if at all.

In a few weeks, the barn cats will simply stay outside day and night, until late October. They love their inside life, and they love their outside life. They loved sitting in the sun today, Flo took one bench, Minnie found a cushion to lie on.

This is sign of Spring. Like me, the cats don’t live by the temperature. Spring is spring, and it is here, even thought there is snow everywhere and another polite storm is coming Sunday. One to four inches they say, but even the Weather Channel isn’t give it a name.

Winters are hard here, but they just make Spring and Summer all the more magical. I forget about the humidity and ticks and bugs and flies, I just revel in being warm, and staying in bed rather than run outside to give out the hay.

It’s a polite storm, there will be no trace of it by Tuesday, when the temperatures will be brushing against 50. The murderous barn cats are my faithful barometer, Flo was out hunting in the North pasture this morning. Mice and moles beware. We haven’t seen a rat around here in years.