Sometimes, on very cold mornings, when I’m piling on layers of clothes, I wish I didn’t have to go out and feed the animals.
But then, as I’m walking to the feeders, my arms full of hay, the sheep and donkeys following closely behind and alongside me, I forget that I’m cold and simply feel the joy of being surrounded by such gentle animals.
And no matter the weather, as I tease out the hay in the donkey feeder, I am always stopped, even if just for a breath, by the view in front of me.
The cluster of trees, the ever-changing colors of the mash shrubs and cornfield, the Green Mountains of Vermont in the distance and the awakening sky.
This morning the air was warm damp and heavy, softly diffusing the late winter colors, so they glowed in a wash of pinkish-yellow light.
How fortunate I am, I thought, as I do for a moment every morning when I gaze at the beauty around me, that this is what I get to see every day.