Merlin was a few yards from the front door. He was woolly, chubby, and hungry. Sometimes I forget he's an equine and wonder what prehistoric beast wandered into the sheep fields? He let out his deep voice, which is basically a demand for hay. I don't encourage rude behavior by validating it (unless you're a 40-lb border collie. She gets a pass) so I walked to the barn top get hay and fed the quiet trio of goats instead.
To walk towards the goats means walking towards a freshly-snowed upon barn in morning light. Th wood was once a loud red, but is now faded, quieter. It means crossing over virgin powder as the wind gently knocks loose squalls of snow from trees. Snow globe flakes dance across the scene. Take one step and think "I am still here." Take another step "Please let me stay a little longer." Friday and Gibson race past me, too fast to be dogs. They are silent snowmobiles, kicking ice behind their paws to make themselves shoot faster. "Ann Jumbar, if you are watching keep me brave and optimisic." I pray and I walk. The farm is all blue rays of light and cold yellow shadows. I will start off 2017 with hope.
This is a fresh start for all of us. I hope you woke up warm and grateful. I hope you are surrounded by loved ones. I hope you attain better health, wealth, and hope for what the year will bring. I hope the same for me. As I write this the fire is lit and the house is slowly warming up. The animals are enjoying their breakfast and I am planning out my work schedule. I hope to visit friends later, maybe even raise a glass with them. But right now the coffee is hot, the farm is lovely, and I have much work ahead of me.
Happy New Year!