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Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Such A Fine Memory

The other night, one of the first of (now many) super cold nights, I bundled up, pulled on my tall boots and headed to the barn for a late night check.  The snow had stopped and the winds calmed.  A few stars winked above and the only sound, the shoosh, crunch, shoosh crunch of my boots through the snow.

Everyone was fine, and I could have just returned to the house, but I stayed.  I set out some extra hay and walked over to stand with Hank.  Some sheep came out for the hay, some came over to visit with me, curious as to why I was there in the middle of the night.  I could have should have stayed forever. A fine memory.

As I turned to go, I saw a truck pull into Stella's driveway.  The snow was deep, but no match for a good four wheel drive.  The driver crept up the long hill, past her house, disappearing around the bend.  It was 11:30, but no reason for concern.  I knew the truck well.  It was the neighbor leasing her farm, headed back to check his cattle.

He is a good farmer.   I see him every morning.  We feed at nearly the same time every day.   As I'm setting out hay for the horses, he's rumbling up the hill in his tractor with a load of silage for his cows (or back down empty depending on how many emails I answered before walking out the door ;-).  He's too far away to see such a greeting, but I give him a nod.   

I like seeing him.  I like the sense of community, the feeling that I am keeping up.  Hoping maybe he looks down the hill and thinks I, too, am a good farmer.  Not everyone makes those late night treks.  I don't always and neither does he.  It meant something special to me on that crystal clear cold night, while the rest of the neighborhood slept, a good farmer was still out.  And I was there, too.   

Such a fine memory.

1 comment:

Terry and Linda said...

Oh! I was afraid something had happened to Stella! I'm glad she is okay!

Linda ♪♫❤