It is late in the evening and as I write I am listening to the roaring noise of wind. Brief bursts of rain spurred by the high winds make a slashing sound on the metal roof. It is January on the northern prairie; this kind of weather is unreal. The weather has been unusually warm for January. A good occurrence when you’re feeding hay to livestock but a worrisome occurrence in all other matters.
It is early the next morning, sleep was brief, there is still the roaring of wind. The internet didn’t stay alive long enough for me to post last night. The rain became snow and morphed into a blizzard. There is a thick blanket of snow/rain on the ground. I’m anxious to head outdoors and see the flock but it’s early hours and it will be full dark for awhile yet. The Kelpies showed no concern about heading outdoors this AM so I’m hopeful that bodes well for the actual conditions. Maybe it’s just the roaring of the wind that has me rattled.
The routine here right now is – well – very routine, which I’m sure I comment on every year. The morning chores consists of getting hay feed to the sheep, cows, horses and then feeding guardian dogs. In the evening we return to the pasture and feed guardian dogs a second time and just have a look around before nightfall.
It’s easy to become impatient with this small, every day occurrence and livelihood. Then brutal weather comes along and makes you appreciate how precarious it all is and in that precariousness is a measure of appreciation.
And you begin again, your routine made anew by way of nature.
