|Posted on February 15, 2015 at 7:25 PM|
When I headed out (the only part of me exposed--my nose) this morning just before dawn to check on the sheep at the barn it was 3 degrees; The wind chill -25. All was well, but the sheer cold cutting through the seams of my coat and Carhartt coveralls made me sense how little I enjoy the cold at 65 years of age compared to how I embraced it at 30 and at 45! It has NOT been a bad winter--this week being the first to hold us hostage below the freezing point for more than a day. Fortunately, no lambs or calves are expected until the end of the month, although we had a set of triplets born last Saturday, the result of our new ram having paid a visit to his harem of ewes early September last fall--a cycle ahead of schedule. They were born on the warmest day this winter--it was 60 that afternoon! Today it never reached 10.
As usual, I took the dogs for a walk -- this time neither horse (RedDog) or donkey (Eoyore) would come with us. Woodrow stayed at the house to help Bev keep the 'fires burning'. Annie, Sis and I headed out around 1 p.m. thinking we might take a short spin up the hill and back. I was so bundled only my eyes and nose could identify me, that is, had anyone been crazy enough to have been out and bumped into me--out there in the more than 200 acres of woods and pasture I trekked. I looked like a walking blob of black and green squeaky goo oozing along. All I could see from the hooded parka tucked around my face was a patch of snowy ground maybe 2' by 3' smack dab in front of me at my feet. I simply could not see beyond the tip of my hood. I tried following what appeared to be the roadway around the woods and through the field in the far back pasture--I let Annie and Sis's dog tracks guide me. Distances and landmarks are of little use when your total reference area is a 2' by 3' patch of ground. Yet, what a different perspective...the world was suddenly twigs, acorns, pine cones, dog tracks, rabbit tracks, sunlight reflected off the individual snow crystals, trees snapping and whistling to the winds of winter, hawks and crows conversing...a world isolated from the expansive views and sounds I usually see and hear. The rainbow spatterings of reflected light, the brilliance of the snow -- all appeared surreal as did the imprints left by falling twigs and branches and pine limbs. It was a world I don't see most days when the view is, as we say, for 'as far as the eye can see'.