It's so easy to get lost in my to-do list.
So easy that I very nearly missed this day.
This frost.
This magic.
This medicine.
Because the animals need tending and the bathroom needs cleaning and... you know the rest.
Because there's never quite the time we want.
But always just the time we need.
As Pete and I headed down to the barn on Sunday for morning chores we looked down the valley and he said, "Look at this. We live in a painting."
It was breathtaking.
A nice place to have to do chores, that's certain.
And we did. Farm chores. Kitchen chores. And then - enough.
Enough with the work.
This magic won't last.
So we suited up and got in it.
We hiked to the creek, the kids on snowshoes.
And then we forgot about work and simply played, each in our own way.
Lupine made a prairie bouquet that now graces our kitchen.
Sage lay on his stomach, pushing the snow drifts into the creek and watching them swirl downstream.
Pete explored the woods, looking for tracks.
And I lay on my back in the snow made pictures of the frost.
We each quietly lost ourselves - and our troubles - in the nature.
It was medicine.
Of the best possible sort.
