My Own Little World

Simply put, I love this time of year.

 The first snow.

Last night, 

after traveling in the moonlight from our main cabin to my office in our Wee House, 

I wrote this upon my arrival.  

 

 

 

Snow beneath my feet,

I walked tonight in moonlight elegance.

Silent.

Pure.

White beauty clinging to every tree.

Welcome winter, welcome.

I had a difficult time turning in last night.  

I couldn't close my eyes on the day.

My eyes were fixed on the outdoors, as the moonlight spilled through my windowed Wee.  

The full moon lit up the countryside 

and I wanted to see every activity that was taking place.

Our land had come alive.

I love the crows.  

 

 

They are my alarm system, telling me what is going on inside my own little world.

Our 40 acres.

Upon waking early this morning, I found a winter wonderland.

 

I love the snow.  It insulates me.  

Makes me want to turn within.  

To hibernate.

 

I have to fight the urge to shut our gate, to close out the world.

For the snow makes me feel buffeted.  

Warm fires, plentiful food.

 That is enough for me.

 

 

And a good book.

THE good book.

That is all one truly needs in life.

But one can't close out the like-minded friends and family

who come to share a visit, a story and a laugh.

They are also our nourishment.

 

Yes, we are truly blessed with the finer things of life.

 

One person pretends to be rich, yet has nothing;
   another pretends to be poor, yet has great wealth. 

Proverbs 13:7

Until tomorrow dear friends, God willing.

The Magic Hour

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.

I could hear the melting snow drip, drip, drip off the “old mill” roof, pinging on a bucket below. To the right of me I could hear the new roosters, youngsters who aged over the winter, try out their new cock-a-doodle do. Scratchy, screechy and short. In front of me a black American Silver Fox rabbit moseyed up to a white Californian and sized her up for motherhood. In the near distance I could hear the hogs squabble over whose turn it was to spin the feeder turnstyle. Their grunts and squeals mixed with the squeak of the metal as it turned, spilling out feed with every spin. Zip, my faithful companion dog, laid in an alert style on the snowy drive. Content to stay near, as always. I watched out of the corner of my eye. She too basked in the sunlight, absorbing the last rays. Beyond Zip I could see our trio of horses, head’s down eating hay provided earlier, their bodies lit up by the sun’s rays. The goats were also quiet, no doubt either chewing cud or hay, bellies full with their sweet grain and grasses. Several crows overhead gave a call, adding to the barnyard banter. The crows reminded me of all the coyote tracks I had seen on my way out to the trail. They traversed the field and came amazingly close to the barnyard perimeter.  Yes, we had a full house.

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?