barefoot december

Glimpses of the last few days...it's almost Christmas!


barefoot in december...


I completely understand the urge to worship the sun this time of year...each sunrise seems to outdo the day before. I love that the darkest time or year is offset with such fabulous light.


Then this strange midday winter sun...I feel snow coming...


Loving all this red & green in the mailbox...


and hearing from friends & family spread across the country...


Mama, I'm a chicken whisperer...


11 new inhabitants settling into our pasture,


Breakfast beneath the Christmas tree,


Don't even try to find red ric rac in southwest montana...for I have used it all!


No snow for proper snow angels...so grass angels instead.


That's all for now.

Merry Christmas All!

morning notes

After so many crisp
brilliant mornings
we woke to fog;
coldsmoke you could taste,
could hold in your mouth
like a breath of winter.



The sun rose
over the Ruby Mountains,
swept the valley;
leaving an intricate
frosting of ice
on everything.











Inside, we started
the day slowly;
fireplace, coffee, blocktowers.





Good morning...

* * *

P.S. Guess who has a dance recital Saturday?

making

The moon is a day away from full,
the edges crystal clear as the temperature
drops below the 20s.



We've spent the last few days busily
making...making...making...
lists, gifts, more lists...


Amelia's gift for Aven - a stuffed horse we drew then sewed - and wrapping paper/artwork with a wildflower (because Aven is a kind of wildflower, mama)



Aven's gift for 'May' is still a work in progress...


Making new friends...this is Sylvia.
Amelia has been asking for a cat
for about a year now. This lady
just started hanging around.
Smart cat.


Making time to rest after a long walk to the mailbox...


Making time to celebrate winter's approach...


and these days of gorgeous sun
we keep waking up to.


More gifts for friends,
using what we have around;



Making...


our small light in the darkness.

gratitude & contrast

This morning the sun
poured in the windows
like something
you could drink.

It glossed the white
walls of my mudroom,
lit up the lacy frost
edging each window.

Some things are so much
better when you draw back
and see them in context;

my day has been full
of this.

That moment
when you notice
some small
miraculous thing.

Like salad greens in December
(after surviving -8 the other night.)
still garnished with a little frost.


Or the 20 (20!) eggs I gathered this afternoon
from the alphabet hens (one for each letter),



or finding cookie cutters
scattered with seed catalogs
across my kitchen table.



There is so much gratitude
in every breath.

december notes

Here in the northern hemisphere,
we have 17 days more
until the earth begins her gentle tilt
back toward the sun.
I am counting them.

I am feeling the longer darkness
in my bones, in my dreams,
in the way my thoughts
brush slowly against each other;
like bodies moving underwater.



Today was cold and brilliant;
a dazzling bluegold day, I felt my face
tip to the sun like a flower
drinking rays. I felt my hands
tingle and go stiff as I threw hay
to the horse & llamas, shook a can
of wheat under the olive tree
for the chickens to find.

Sparrows & finches spray
from the feeder to the bushes
as I walk by, their collective sound
in flight is like a sigh;
dry grass rushing
in a sudden breeze.



This is what I mean.
I appreciate this slowing,
this return to the elemental
at the end of the year; light, warmth,
food; I feel things
with a deliberate intensity
whether it is sunlight on my face,
bread dough beneath my hands,
wool around my neck.

What would I do with myself
without seasons?

a week of november; postcards

untitled

New snow on the mountains
and the hills just
call and call
for you to climb them.



Out here I am so aware
of the scale of things;
the throbbing orange life
of lichen on rock,
the mountains in every direction,
the sweep and rise
to sky.



That we can just
take an hour
before evening
and be here.

Makes my heart
happy.