There was still the barn to muck, but something made me stop. I stood in the barnyard to see what I could see.
Fate, uncharacteristically, stood beside me waiting.
The sheep and donkeys had settled into eating. I gave them the last bale of last year’s leftover hay yesterday morning. This year’s hay, fresh from the field just a few months ago, keeps them from moving from feeder to feeder looking for something more tasty.
I gazed past the feeder into the marsh.
The thin red branches of the bushes that grow highlight the browns and grays. To the left, the farmer’s cover crop is finally dulling. No longer spring green as it had been until a few days ago. After yesterday’s snow, the corn field is mostly mud polka dotted with cut corn stalks. While on the hill across the road I imagine I can hear the rustling of the dry still standing corn, so much louder than its soft sandy color.
The clouds are pale bluish-gray and one is disguised as a mountain. If I didn’t know my neighbors so well, I’d think there were more of them and that they were higher than they really are.
Then I see it out of the corner of my eye.
My gaze is brought home by a single falling snowflake. They come so slowly and with so much space between them, I begin to count them. One tickles my nose and when I blink there are suddenly too many to keep track of.
In moments the wind is pulling the white specks on an angle and when I finally go into the barn to muck it out, I can hear the snow hit the metal roof.
Fate circles the sheep and I think how lucky I am that I saw the snow begin to fall.
Thank you for bringing me into such a tranquil setting. After I finished reading I closed my eyes and imagined being there while the images were still fresh in my mind.
Today we still have sunshine but the northern winds are blowing and by tonight the snow should begin to fall. According to the weather forecast we will wake up to a blanket of snow on the field. The prairie grass will be covered and the trees will look beautiful with their shimmering snow covered branches against the steely blue sky. Mother Earth is an artist.
I can clearly see your winter prairie from words Josie. Thanks for sharing them.
Thank you Maria for this memory. The first snow is always special. It brings with its arrival the gift of time to savor life where we find ourselves. Where we are is where we must be. We need to be reminded. Me, too. Veronica
That’s a wonderful way of saying it and experiencing life Veronica. Thank you once again or your wise words.