Winter -- an amusing musing time.

 Whether busy with my daily chores or just sitting, gently falling snow outside will always catch my eye. I find myself pausing at the top of the stairs to just stare at the fluffy whiteness. When we were littler, we used to say "God dropped whipped cream all over the woods!" when we took in a freshly snow covered forest. Amazing how the whole world looks different when those white fluffy flakes start gently dropping. The woods, ravine, creek, east ridge, pine grove, cabin site, and other places we commonly explore in the summer now look very different, I noticed during my daydreams at the window. Everything has been coated in a fresh, peaceful, clean, waist deep, whiteness. Crossing to the other end of the house, I find I've forgotten what I'd originally entered the room for, as my attention is glued the slowly falling snow. The cows and horses spend a lot of time in their front pens by their shelters now that it's cold. A twitch of the mule's ear sends the snowball that was gathering there onto the ground, disturbing the serenity. A pony is scratching her nose on the post by the watering tank, knocking the snow from it. The boys start to roughhouse, and snow falls from their backs. The little paint mare is scratching her butt back and forth on the rail of the fence, cleaning the snow off that section of the rail. As though just waking up, the pony laying in the middle of the pen suddenly rolls over kicking the fresh snow up in a cloud of whiteness and hoofs as he does so.... And still the snow comes gently down...
The cow watches the ponies idly from her pen across the fence, with one of those 'blank cow' expressions. (Just imagine the snow falling in this pic. )
A few yards to the south Stephen is coming out of the chicken house with an egg in his glove. There are a few chickens huddling around the door. They return to the warmth of their home after Stephen leaves. A bunny jumps back into her hutch, kicking the snow from her feet. Behind the chicken house, the long rolls of round bales looks like white graves, completely covered by the snow as they are. Still the snow gently falls on it's course to the ground. The sheep lifts her head to watch Stephen, causing the pitiful snowball that had gathered there to fall. The trees in the woods beyond are edged in the whiteness, as it had been blowing around the night before. Taking in the whole picture, I find I am releasing a sigh from somewhere deep within... And I am happy. There are some days when I long for spring. There are other days when I'm just happy. I try to encourage those days to stick around and wait out the winter with me.

Wishing you those days as well...
Mary

P.S. Yes, when the snow dose finally cease, we are left quiet buried--but well equipped to deal with it... with sleds, smiles and, of course, snow shovels!