Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Thomas Kinkade would've thrown up

Last night around 9 PM I went outside to close up the chicken pen like I do every night, but soon as I walked out into the moonlight, I noticed a completely different visual. The circular lights of a snowplow flickered off the barn. There was one beeping and backing up just past the farm on the highway, and it’s flashing was almost police car like. Except it didn’t’ give you that feeling of anxiety the blue and red lights do. Nah, it was more like Christmas lights actually.

Instead of walking behind the house on the well worn path to the coops, I waded in the opposite direction through the snow till I was about 100 feet away from the front door. The sky broke open from the past 3 nights and there were stars coming through the clouds behind the house's steep gable. The big dipper soared up into the heavens pointing forever north. The porch light and the civil plow’s flashes were the only other sources of light besides those stars. In the dark the farmhouse glowed like a storybook cottage, perfect and warm and tucked away from the whole world. Inside I knew there was warm food and snuggling dogs and I had a cup of hot mint tea and a documentary on Thomas Jefferson to get back too under the wool blanets on the couch. But I think I stood there in the cold watching the house for at least five minutes in the stillness. I was waiting for it to get picked up and shook like a snow globe. I waited but it never did. I fed the birds some leftover cherry pie and went back inside.


Blogger Penny said...

This is one of my favorite blog posts. I enjoy re-reading the old posts from time to time. Penny in IN

May 4, 2015 at 1:53 PM  

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