It’s February on the high prairie at the fringe of the Rocky Mountains. The pond is still frozen so there is an unnatural quiet, no bird chatter, no wings in the sky. After months of feeling that light is somehow a product of ice lighting the ground, the sun feels just a bit warm again. … Read more
Lawn chairs got tossed, doors banged and windows rattled. She came back late, maybe even drunk. When I ventured out just before sun up, the ground was damp, small twigs and branches littered the picnic table. A surprising barrage of bird chatter; it’s been so quiet without them the last months but they were … Read more
Tufting the Corgi Do I need a sweater? The evening air has cooled thinner, the time on the clock doesn’t match the light outside. An orange dog jumps up, not quite small enough for a lap, fidgeting a spot close but looking away, air-licking anxiety. Is he seven now? A few soft barks, his toenails … Read more
Harvesting regret.
Transition Imposition. Anna Blake, Infinity Farm. (WordPress Photo Challenge is a weekly prompt to share a photo–I enjoy twisting these macro prompts to share our micro life here on the Colorado prairie. My photos are taken with my phone, on my farm. No psych, definitely not high tech.)
This poem was actually not written by Dylan Thomas at all, but rather his riding instructor.
How can winter be unexpected? There was an especially early snow last month. We usually have one, but it’s a false alarm, and then autumn will dawdle along for weeks of perfect riding weather. This autumn did not linger, but departed with barely a pause. I can’t find the rhythm; each month seems out of … Read more
It’s time to shut up and ride.
The last storm drove on all night long, bouncing and rattling every loose end. Once it was finally still and we could all stop bracing, the horses laid down to rest and I peeled my shoulders away from my ears.
The wind positively howled. There was sun, not that you could feel it. The horses didn’t want turn out. It was 20 degrees warmer in the south-facing runs and there’s not much windbreak on our prairie pasture. The horses that were turned out looked longingly at the barn and I knew the season has truly … Read more
There is a delicate quality to the outdoors just now- like the earth is holding it’s breath, waiting for the wind on it’s way from the north. Any minute that wind will bomb us naked and mono-chromatic till spring.