As summer faded into early autumn, I waxed poetically (or so I'm told) about the joys of the season of easy living while looking forward with no little trepidation to the coming winter.
Earlier in the week we got our first taste of wintry weather. The weekend had been rapturously beautiful, with gentle puffball skies, warming sunshine, temperatures nudging 70 degrees, and barely a puff of wind. I spent most of the daylight hours outside, attending to the manifold chores that grow like weeds around the ranch. It was glorious.
|Nona and Red|
|The first ranch house|
|Tumbleweeds, fences, and next year's project|
|There she is|
|There she goes|
|Mmmmmm. Sodium and chlorine.|
|Ready for harvest|
|Autumn gold, shade 327.2|
|Autumn gold, shade 154.9|
|Light, shadow and iron oxide|
|Nature at play|
|Pferde Erwärmung in der Herbstsonne|
As winter storms go it wasn't worth wasting ink on. A very mild, very vanilla weather event. But it was the first of the year, and it was cold and uncomfortable -- particularly as it came hard on the heels of a heavenish three days. I had to bundle up in layers, the roads were treacherous, I needed to engage the four wheel drive, and everything I had to do required the extra effort required to work in the cold, windy, freezing realm of not easy living.
|First snow they've seen|
|Frosted wheat ground|
|The storm left wind sculpted mini-drifts behind|
I don't know for sure, but I think life would be a grim experience without variety, and I suspect I'd be an empty husk if there were no harsh days to stand in contrast to the beautiful days.