Night before last one of those glorious sunsets with decorative clouds, last evening a uniform, dim cover of clouds, this morning new, fresh brilliance. I think I will never tire of observing the edge effect as it appears morning and evening in the sky.
The snow missed us, fell south of us, but the cold is in residence. I'm so thankful for sturdy shelter, and warmth. The stockpile of wood is nearly gone, but for now we use what we have, and it is enough.
The horse shelter across the road in my most direct line of view is full of sunlight, but I can't tell if the hay racks on the back wall are full of hay. When I walked yesterday, though, I noticed the hay racks in the lower meadow shelter were plentifully supplied. The colors varied, through many greens, beigy gold, near-browns. The colors of good hay. I couldn't smell that hay yesterday, but as I walked I remembered from my girlhood how the cold, winter hay mows still held such a dusty, sweet scent from summer. And then I sniffed again and noticed the clear, cold quietness of the air around me that moment, and that was good, too.
This morning, inside, the house smells faintly of wood smoke with an overlay of coffee.
Last week I opened the mailbox one day and on top of the pile was a manila envelope and in the return address place was the name of my poetry teacher and friend. Ah, I felt so happy just seeing that envelope and address! One of the two books inside, Wild Comfort: The Solace of Nature by Kathleen Dean Moore has this frontispiece quote:
"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts." Rachel Carson, A Sense of Wonder
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