This strange winter has left me confused. One day, my skin blossoms, smooth as butter, and the next, it’s parched and in desperate need of tender loving moisturizing.
Bundled up in Country Man’s heavy Carhartt coat, camera in my pocket and animals at my feet, I ventured on a walk. Cold, penetrating air reached my cheeks as soon as shoe found gravel, and I knew today was a day for lotion thick on face. I was prepared. However the night time and cost of cream, it is worth it…
Because a walk does my senses good, all the time. It has not failed me yet, and I needed it.
Needed to see the forever sky,
the prairie pastures and crop fields,
the pastures and fields that stop at the Missouri River sand…
Yes, a walk to browse the homes with stories of long ago but not today; a muse for the imaginative ones.
Standing next to the home that was perhaps once a little girl’s playhouse, pink walls and one window, I stopped to watch a plane above, flying so low I could almost see the passengers smiling across the sky. For a while I remembered back to honeymooning with Country Man, our flight and arrival to a land much different than South Dakota.
It was lovely and good, but I discovered I liked new marriage life best in our home, on our land.
I still do.
And as the plane flew out of sight, a hawk cried aggressively nearby, and I whistled pups and farm kitties to my side.
The cattle curiously peered over the fence, watching with brave caution as the new creatures turned around to head home.