The arrival of our 2011 winter comes in late and fast, lets us be ready.  Antelope hanging in the carport, local pork picked up last night for our first of the year’s bacon this morning.    Bikes and hoses hanging away, garlic and bulbs planted, heaters under pigeon and poultry waterers, sleeping bags in my old pickup in the dog run.  First snow this morning  is horizontal and leaves an inch or two — enough for puppies to chase mice in the  tall swamp grasses below the sledding tracks.  Sledding  runs include shrieks for the dogs to get out of the way before the sled swings to the bottom.  Jupiter comes up well ahead of the moon as the sun goes down.  I can see blaze orange down in a distant tree stand and the house becomes a lantern from the river side.  Kids eat garlic green beans like candy, puppies take turns dragging each other around the shiny concrete floor by the ear.  Natalia and Misa in wet suit, goggles, and snorkels appear to climb up and sit in the mudroom sink just before bed.   Each morning, each night lately I say to myself, “This is my life.”  And as always, it is the details that shimmer, that will last.

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About Lorca Smetana

White doves. Retreats. Insects. Languages. Making.
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