My OperaBack under the sun
Friday, March 6, 2009 11:44:03 PM
Shallow blue pools of melting ice lay on the fields under the orange sun. Black earth patches emerge through the snow. The glassy ice is the slippery surface to watch out for and the sparkling soft ice has the texture for walking. Twist the boot just a little to grip, or slide and land in it. The yellow faded woody stalks are standing in the ice in the open field. Wet tractor tracks lead from the earth trail beneath the long tube of wrapped hay. Now it's almost entirely exposed under the sun, leaving a single truck load of round hay bales for the next job.
Rounding the edges of the field overlooking the gully toward the horizon and the sun I notice that deer tracks are on the surfaces of melting snow, in the shadows near the trees. They were there in fresh forms when I was here last, before the week of freezing. Does a layer of snow uncover impressions like that when it melts?
The wind is suddenly howling on crest of the hill in front of a thick pine wall overlooking the gully and the stream. The tree tops shake and produce a long whipping snap and then the chorus and then fade out as I press through the soft snow. There is a moss and hay fragrance in the air, and something else that may be wet tree bark or warming mulch. Back under the sun it is quiet everywhere but for the barking dog in the next lot. He barks steadily with no answers from dogs or wolves. The wild animals are hungriest now and may be approach the yard and so the farm dogs are especially alert.
The dog is skipping over the ice where I am cautiously stepping and then walking hard on the soil when it appears. I find a route that takes best advantage of the melted snow, back to the house. She is following a tiny hedgehog that is like a mouse. It runs past her snout and is gone in a bite. She barely notices the event and keeps walking then running over the train tracks and up the path past the first field. There I find my metal pails that take the kitchen scraps from and to the house. The snow I filled them with is nearly melted and when I pour the water out, it takes the refuse with it. Are those corn kernels? Back to the soil in every portion.
Rounding the edges of the field overlooking the gully toward the horizon and the sun I notice that deer tracks are on the surfaces of melting snow, in the shadows near the trees. They were there in fresh forms when I was here last, before the week of freezing. Does a layer of snow uncover impressions like that when it melts?
The wind is suddenly howling on crest of the hill in front of a thick pine wall overlooking the gully and the stream. The tree tops shake and produce a long whipping snap and then the chorus and then fade out as I press through the soft snow. There is a moss and hay fragrance in the air, and something else that may be wet tree bark or warming mulch. Back under the sun it is quiet everywhere but for the barking dog in the next lot. He barks steadily with no answers from dogs or wolves. The wild animals are hungriest now and may be approach the yard and so the farm dogs are especially alert.
The dog is skipping over the ice where I am cautiously stepping and then walking hard on the soil when it appears. I find a route that takes best advantage of the melted snow, back to the house. She is following a tiny hedgehog that is like a mouse. It runs past her snout and is gone in a bite. She barely notices the event and keeps walking then running over the train tracks and up the path past the first field. There I find my metal pails that take the kitchen scraps from and to the house. The snow I filled them with is nearly melted and when I pour the water out, it takes the refuse with it. Are those corn kernels? Back to the soil in every portion.
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