Lazy mornings provide comfort during this dark month. I revel in a preliminary cup of coffee while yet in PJs. Our still-lovely Christmas tree provides all the light needed to pour that first cuppa. Moving from window to window, I track the sun's ascent as it first gilds fields on the Fairfield Bench, then drops to the Ashuelot Bench, and finally creeps into our valley. In that earliest light, I try to locate the ewes. Always together in a colonial bedding ground but individually camouflaged in a snowy nest selected at dusk, they often elude me in the faint dawn light, sometimes disappearing in the highest northwest corner of their pasture, occasionally--when Chinook winds are particularly fierce--downwind from the chokecherry thicket, or, most often, in the corner closest to the house. From that latter location, I imagine them listening carefully to the same weather report that I'm hearing and deliberating on their plans for the day based on our shared forecast. Before full light, they arise unhurriedly, enjoy a final satisfying burp of cud, and eventually move en masse to the north end of the pasture where sunlight first strikes their pasture. There they begin their routine, digging vigorously through our now-crusty snow for tidbits of grass. Any lucky strike that yields green treasure gets magically telegraphed, and others rush to share (or fight over) the cache.
I envy their industry. Jim and I await full daylight before venturing forth to feed heifers, shovel snow if needed, and retrieve our daily paper. We indulge in news, breakfast, and more coffee before rolling out hay for cows and ewes. Afterward, I paint, motivated by my commitment to be part of MT Watercolor Society's larger exhibit during Western Art Week in March. Last week, I broke from watercolors to obsess for three days on a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle, a Christmas present from New Hampshire relatives. Thankfully, our puzzle-driven daughter Katrina came home for the weekend and boosted the project to completion. Her help was welcome, despite the fact that she hoarded promising pieces, thus depriving me of several brief, but satisfying, moments of triumph at finding yet another perfect fit. The final assemblage warranted a toast. Today, after repeated unsatisfactory efforts to photo-capture ewes hidden within their landscape of dormant grass and snow hummocks, I opted to share my best shot and move on. Thus, January passes.
I envy their industry. Jim and I await full daylight before venturing forth to feed heifers, shovel snow if needed, and retrieve our daily paper. We indulge in news, breakfast, and more coffee before rolling out hay for cows and ewes. Afterward, I paint, motivated by my commitment to be part of MT Watercolor Society's larger exhibit during Western Art Week in March. Last week, I broke from watercolors to obsess for three days on a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle, a Christmas present from New Hampshire relatives. Thankfully, our puzzle-driven daughter Katrina came home for the weekend and boosted the project to completion. Her help was welcome, despite the fact that she hoarded promising pieces, thus depriving me of several brief, but satisfying, moments of triumph at finding yet another perfect fit. The final assemblage warranted a toast. Today, after repeated unsatisfactory efforts to photo-capture ewes hidden within their landscape of dormant grass and snow hummocks, I opted to share my best shot and move on. Thus, January passes.
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