Somedays I just want to curl away on the side of my couch, wrapped into a wool blanket, and simply write to my heart's content. I'll grab any peice of open unwritten paper in my notebook and scribble words- any words that come to my head- for hours upon hours. I write poems, stories, non-fiction tidbits, and narrative essays. I write of dreams, of thoughts, of imaginary places I someday hope to visit. And to many such a day would seem wasted, but to me such days are among some of the most well spent.
A Dusting Of Snow
Today I awoke to the most magnificant feeling in the world. Snow, I could sense it- just beyond my windowpane. I jumped from my brown plaid covers and ran over to pull away my tan curtains. There, about 7 or 8 feet below me, lay the most amazing color- white, everywhere. It was flawless. I ran out to my even larger kitchen window and pulled back my lace curtains to take in the scenery even further. And then, out of pure and utter excitement- I grabbed my coat, my slippers, and my happy soul and I ran outside to make the first tracks of the season on the ground before my cabin.
Awaiting Permanent Snow
The weather is sunny but oh so cold. Frost remains in the shaded parts until late afternoon. Small puddles are becoming permanently frozen. The birds have hushed and settled in for the snow to come. Chipper- and her daughter Sassy (who decided to stay around instead of roam into the wild) are stocking up on seeds for the winter. The pups all have new dry hay put into their dog houses- and my seal skin mukluks are calling my name. A first permanent snowfall is on the horizon and I'm beginning to feel the excitement for its appearance.
Fleeting Daylight
Autumn has officially come and gone. My favorite season of the year disappears so quickly into winter. The first snowfall fell. It didn't stick but the white dots made a scene on the horizon. I love winter, I really do. It could perhaps also be my favorite season. But I'm so sad to see the yellow leaves already fallen onto the riverbanks. The frogs hiding away for hibernation. The waterfowl have all traveled south- leaving only the northern dwellers to pass by. The berries are gone, the tundra has turned from green to a vibrant red, and the northern Siberian winds have begun twisting the empty alder branches. It's now passed the season of sweaters and the weather for fur is growing on me. I have much sewing to do, hay to gather, and firewood to cut. Winter is coming faster than I can imagine, and my procrastinating habits are growing more evident with the fleeting daylight hours.
My Little Rotten Love
The pup has so quickly become a part of Coho and I's family. She's such a mother, it's beautiful. When she venture's off this small little white ball of anger follows her. He adores her and never leaves her side. And she never walks too fast for his little paw's pace. She lets him pull her tail with his sharp little teeth and she snuggles him in for an afternoon nap. She has taken him as her son and he has most certainly considered her a mother. He's getting used to me. Coho adores me, and so he naturally get's overwhelmingly excited when I come in his presence as well. I see pitbull in him. He's too young to tell if he's full bred or not, but he has the heart of a fighter. That terrifies me, but Coho keeps him in line quite well. She keeps Rascal in line and he's twice her size, so I feel comfortable with the fact she is the chosen one to raise this little ball of terror. He's playful, adorable, and although he's as rotten as they come- I have already made a spot in my dog-loving heart for him.
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