First day of winter, although it hardly feels like it– 60 degrees this morning, humid, cloudy, muddy. Still, it’s winter enough that the cows have to be fed. Every morning it’s the first thing on the two-year-old’s mind (after nursies and diapers and discussions of rocket pajamas): “Tak-toh? Hay-bell? Feed Tows?” He goes with Daddy in the white tractor, spearing bales and delivering them to mamas and “babies” (the smallest of the babies is now around 400 pounds). Back and forth, one-two-three, and then after the last bale drops, “See Mama?” At first Brad thought Finn said that because he was wanting to be brought back in to me, but then realized he only says it when they are finished. “He’s learning to count by hauling hay bales,” Brad said.
Winter rain impresses me with its dreariness. A spring rain refreshes, makes colors brighter, makes the world feel clean, even as it makes just as much mud. Somehow the winter rain just feels dank and tired. We still have more soybeans to get out, but they’ll have to wait until we dry out again, probably after Christmas. Getting this late in finishing the picking, we start to worry about losing whatever’s left, either to a hard freeze exploding the pods or to rot. Always something that can be worried about.
testing the comment function…
Darling I love the feel your words have. Makes me miss you and your lovely kiddos. Happy Solstice dear friend and an even Happier New Year.