This
morning I walked the dogs on the familiar field perimeter, starting again
through the spruce line and into the edge of the farm field. From there, we
typically walk slowly counter clock-wise around the farm using the two-track
access roads that go from one field to the next.
The
snow from a week ago is still nearly six inches deep, though quite fluffy, and
it is amusing to watch the dogs undulate ahead of me through the drifts.
Nothing
but a snow ridge distinguishes the separation of the two tracks where the farm
truck drives, and here it is a bit more forgiving for walking. I know these roads
through all seasons, and while the grasses between the tracks have their own
vital appeal, there is still beauty to be found in the snow-covered paths.
On
occasion, a sere golden rod or cluster of brown Queen Anne’s Lace pokes through
the snow, defiant of being knocked over. It seemed only yesterday that these
were filled with the colors of late fall, but here they now stand as a brittle
reminder of the season past.
About
midway across the field, I found a singular golden rod husk bent over nearly horizontally
and lightly touching the snow surface with its remnant flower heads. It was
broken at the base so that the wind would cause the plant to shift around in a
circle, and when I stood to look just so, I could only see a field of brilliant
white powdery snow and the golden rod husk with a series of concentric circles
it had made.
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