Monday, January 19, 2009


A classic winter snowfall has left the farm blanketed in white. When I set out for a morning walk, the corgis, Loonis, and Cato decided to come along. Loonis made it as far as the entrance to the back field when she decided she would be inconvenienced by the little balls of snow clinging to her lustrous coat. At that point, she gave up on the idea of a walk and returned to the house.

Annie and Molly, however, couldn't wait to get out in the field, and they got silly like they used to when they were puppies. Molly took a snow bath and rolled around in a big drift for about five minutes while chubby, sweet Annie chugged along behind me, not venturing too far from the path. Cato, farm clown, flitted all over the place, chasing the snow he kicked up as he ran. He overflowed with "ornery-ness" as he ambushed Annie and Molly when they failed to notice him camoflauged in the snow and broom sage. He'd pounce on them from behind, jump in the air, spin around and run like the dickens when they turned around to see what had grabbed them in the butt.

The bird feeders are a whirl of activity this morning. Cardinals, blue jays, mourning doves, titmice, chickadees, juncos, and all sorts of finches are devouring our bird seed at a rate of about 25 lbs. every three days. The male cardinals and blue jays stay in constant competition for "¿Quién es más macho?" while the rest of the birds pig out. Their testosterone-inspired feeder wars are really quite humorous, especially since the rest of the birds could give a flip about who wins. They're too busy cracking the sunflower seeds and flying to and from the feeders.

Deer and raccoon tracks dot the back field, and I think I might have spotted a coyote's trail into the back woods. The creek in the back woods is frozen over enough for me to "skate" on, and as I stood in the silence by my "thinking tree" back there, my thoughts were accompanied by the falling shavings from the drilling of a red-bellied woodpecker just above my head.

Cato taking a rest in his snow blanket
The only side of the barn that hasn't lost boards

The quiet of a snowy winter day is one of the most peaceful "sounds" I know. My dad used to tell me to listen to it closely and not let my presence disturb the silence. So today, with Papa's words in mind and with the crows hovering around, I sank into the quiet, and I'm smiling big time!

1 comment:

Kristy said...

I love the photo of the farm land and the barn. Preciosa. Oh, how I wish our kitties loved the snow like yours does. They put one foot into the snow and they run back inside.