Icy morn..the last

I recall pushing my girls out the back door on days like this.
Days that you know are short-lived.
Days that, even though we may long for a change from them, will be wished for at a later date.
The days you wish to remember--blue skies, perfect snowflakes and crisp air.

The sun is peeking in the open windows of the old barn.
The goats are warm inside, eating their breakfast of sweet grain and hay--the pasture low and beneath snow.


I walked around the fencing, following the tracks left in the light snow cover. The night must have been alive with rabbits, dancing in the moonlight.
Their tracks are everywhere--bounding across the open spaces, stepping into the woods.

They respect the fences.

These tracks do not--stepping right through, walking across, and out the other side.
Perhaps a fox? Dog-like, but not a bother to the goats--nothing young or weak.
A coyote would have been different--but the field fence is too small for him to pass through.



I knelt down in the barely-there snow.
And saved images of snowflakes for August's swelter.