winter

the language of spring

the language of spring

A few weeks ago the sun was shining bright. Green grass peeked out from a midst the leftover chucks of icy snow. Mud puddles littered the driveway and the wood stove sat cold and unneeded. Then in one blustery stormy night spring was wiped out. Snow piled high, high. Puddles hardened into ice that crunched under…

[life.rambles]

Indian summer is upon us. The warm November sun, fresh bales of fourth and fifth cutting hay all giving bursts of energy. Maybe this year, maybe, we can be ready for snow. My red Ford “car-truck” as my husband affectionately calls it, is piled high with firewood. The combine, the hay wagons, the baler… they…

[before.winter]

[before.winter]

He grips my hand as we step out of the barn. It was another late night milking. Part of getting ready for winter. Using every bit of daylight to do field work. We’re almost to the house when I feel his tug. I step off the rough rocks of the driveway into soft grass. “Come…

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