Imagine the sounds
of crunchy grass, the smell of wood fires and crisp night air. The sky
twinkles with brightly lit stars and the ground sparkles with a million
shards of ice. It's cold and bloody beautiful here. I try to trace a
circle on my car door window but my mittened finger leaves no mark.
Oooh - magical and mysterious. That's life on the Palouse.
Rolling fields
of everchanging landscapes, patterned by the textures of each season
and the passages of planting/sowing, growing and harvesting. Dark soil
furrowed with diagonal and rolling lines, green, green growing, shades
of golden yellows and ochres from miles and miles of curving wheat fields
intersecting each other at impossible angles and then the white, white
snows of winter. Wow! Guy calls it iconic: Field, pasture, barn, horse,
tree, house, BIG skies. It never ceases to take our breath away. So
far we've experienced one hot, hot pantingly hot summer full of fragrant
bushes full of bees and wasps. One brief but stunningly gorgeous fall.
I'd stand beneath a fiery red-gold tree and feel the light blessing
me through the leaves. It was ecstatic. The leaves fell and that was
beautiful too, but then we had to rake them up. Now the trees are bare
and it's still beautiful. My first time waking up to snow and I was
delirious with excitement jumping up and down. Guy quite blasé.
Been there done that. My first time driving in snow. I made it out the
driveway but couldn't get up the hill. No traction, my wheels spinning.
I managed to roll back and park and called AAA. They said "Yep
that's snow. We'll be by later, couldn't say when." They never
came. Bigger fish to fry. I found out later it's better to go downhill.
It's still very weird.
