The leaves are off the trees behind the house, opening up our field of view to the hills beyond the red barn. This morning, a tiny black ball of fur frolicked on the hillside, a newborn calf testing out his gangly legs. Little John, fuzzy as a giant cuckleburr, stood under a bare oak tree at the far end of the pasture and eyed me across the valley as I fed the chickens. Nope, not Martha, he quickly assessed. Not worth a mad gallop for a bit of sweet feed.
It's so easy to see the birds among the tree trunks and branches now. The sun-flash of a goldfinch. The stark red and white and black of a woodpecker, like a Japanese ink drawing on gray bark. A flurry of blue. A burst of red. The bright white bellies of the juncos.
Ben built the first fire of the season yesterday, to chase away the gray dregs of a rainy day. Toasted marshmallows for dessert, and card games in front of the fire. Today, venison chili for lunch - mmmmm, it just feels good to cradle the warm bowl in cold fingers and inhale the spicy steam.
Here we go, over the brink into three months in the freezer.
3 weeks ago