Fanny and Lulu stood in the pole barn watching the sheep eat their hay. There was a layer of icy snow on the ground this morning, cold rain made the barn yard into the kind mud that pulls at my boots.
I fed the donkey’s some leftover bread from yesterday’s breakfast, but they were not leaving the barn, not even for the hay Jon put in the feeders.
I went to get the rake and shovel to muck out the barn and when I got back, the donkeys were where I left them, munching on a pile of hay. They knew as well as I did, that Jon would not make them go out in the cold rain to eat.
Jon and the donkeys have been doing this for a long time. He could never resist their soft nickering, their reluctance to get wet.
Then it was my turn.
I’ve been meaning to get seed for the bird feeder for the past two weekend. But yesterday the sun was out and last weekend it was warm enough to garden. It wasn’t until this morning, that the reality of November seeped in.
Yes, I thought, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck to keep the warm in, winter really is on its way.
I filled the bird feeders as much for myself as the birds. I wanted to do something to make me appreciate the gray skies and coming cold instead of dreading it. I thought of the good things. The birds that will soon be outside my studio window. How, this time of year, my path into the backwoods isn’t blocked by overgrown grasses and ticks. Coming in from the cold to a house warm with the heat of wood stoves.
I reminded myself to embrace the melancholy that fills the air around me this time of year. The lonely, disconnected feeling that comes with the cold and the holidays. But I believe, like my nightmares, it holds a gift. Now I just have to figure out what it is.
It’s funny. I woke up and saw the snow and my first thought was glad I put the car in the garage last night. I think maybe the winter gives me the gift of anticipation and hope. It’s why I chose to live in a place that has distinct seasons. To appreciate each one’s gifts.
Hmm anticipation and hope…There’s a Mary Oliver poem that says something about hope being the answer to longing. The idea of anticipation and hope reminds me of that. It is hopeful.
“I reminded myself to embrace the melancholy that fills the air around me this time of year. The lonely, disconnected feeling that comes with the cold and the holidays. But I believe, like my nightmares, it holds a gift. Now I just have to figure out what it is.”
When I read this, it struck me– your words, your feelings, your sharing this on the blog are the gift (to me). They reach out and connect us, in a place close to the bone. . . . the place that teaches us to really know ourselves. So thank you, Maria,
Ah you made me cry Veronica. I will be thinking about your words (and your gift to me) about the place “close to the bone…that teaches us to really know ourselves. Thank you.
That last paragraph really spoke to me, Maria. The bleakness of November, and the solitude bleak weather brings, is something I am really fighting at the moment, now that I am retired from teaching and at the farm full time. Your words bring comfort and hope :).
Oh yes, Tara, especially the first year here. The wood stoves definitely help!