The sun rarely shines this time of year. The sky is generally the color of lead. The cool season grasses left around have little color. Each winter there is a bumper crop of mud.
But it does not stay that way. Two Corollas and a Shackleford in a lush pasture of various grasses and tender weeds-- that will be how it will look in about six months. That is how it has always been--seems like it gets hard to remember how beautiful the spring is when trapped in the drabness of winter.
Time is a constant.
Today I will go to the Little House and will likely mount up at some point--just like I am in this picture of me behind the Little House on my pony Tanka from about fifty years ago.
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I believe in God, only I spell it Nature. ~Frank Lloyd Wright
I think it (makes God angry) if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.... People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~Alice Walker, The Color Purple, 1982
It is funny how we often perceive the world in tiny slices of time without consideration of the rich tapestry of life and time. Tho' winter ills constrain the spirit, spring's release be all the sweeter for it.
(Then the trails get dry, If mud were soybeans we would be in tall cotton..to mangle several metaphors) -Lloyd
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