I love the hour right before the sun goes down. It’s magical, both in lighting and in content.
Last week, as the temps were at their peek after a long day of climbing from single digits,
I sat on our swing by our main cabin,
just out of reach of the dog yard, but in full view of all our animals.
While I gently rocked, I tipped my head back to capture the last of the sun’s rays as it exited the evening sky. I had just returned from breaking out a new trail on our 40 acres. I was tired of taking a dogsled over the embankment of our long drive, so I came up with a way to avoid that route. Hence, I put in a new trail. Actually, I was perfecting one that Russ had begun in the summer months, over a year ago. It connected one campsite to another, but entered into an area of the woods where no trail currently goes, other than the wildlife. I was overheated from walking in the deep snow. Snow so deep and sugary that it sucked my Yaktraks off my Muck boots. Luckily, I keep watch for such things and retrieved it on the way back through. Now, I was sitting, waiting for Russ to finish with the horses, so we could move into the final step of the nightly chores, the dogs. But while I waited, I sunk deeper into the warm, heavy wooden swing, rocking with a rhythm of the land, enjoying the small break at the end of a long, wonderous day.
My thoughts were quickly diverted as the sled dogs began to stir. They always see Russ before I do, and alert me to his presence. Part 2 of the evening chores would begin. Right on schedule, closing out the magic hour.
Until tomorrow, God willing. And wondering, is this Heaven?