Diamonds on the souls of my boots

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2 degrees below last night.  But this morning there were diamonds on the driveway, whole unbroken fields of diamonds.  For a moment, I was sad I hadn’t brought the camera (picture me fully dressed and stuffed into my insulated overalls with my insulated LLBean denim barn coat over that, big boots, two scarves and a hat – with a camera strap around my neck – “Have fun,” my mother said to me after she’d stuffed me into a snow suit that made it impossible to move arms or legs – and shoved me out the back door).  But then I remembered that these diamonds don’t translate well into flat media.  Maybe a star filter?

Some things can’t be captured.  Sometimes you just have to suck up a breath and live in the awe of the moment.

Once inside the barn, I was sorry again; there was a marmalade cat, Mrs. Norris in short, all fluffed out with the cold, lazily perched on the very narrow rim of the water trough.  For a moment, I wondered if he had simply frozen, balancing there, he looked so permanent.  It would have made a great shot.  But the horses came and ran him off.

Then I had to haul some yucky hay out across the arena to our soon-doomed cows (not “our” as in just mine – two neighbor cows; half of one will fill my freezer some day in the next few weeks).  I looked up from my trudging pull and saw an entire covey of quail lined up along the bottom rail of the fence, fat globs of bird, seeming disgruntled with the cold.  I was sorry to have to impose on them.  They huffed off into the snow, grumbling.  They had looked like fat, black Christmas balls against the snowy pasture.

That’s all.  Now four freezing dogs are demanding entrance to my house.  The puppies have a new beloved tradition: when they come in from the snow, the run straight to the hearth where the drying towel is warming.  Then they turn and look at me.  So now, drying off is de rigueur around here.  Luckily, drying snowy puppies is more productive than being dried by otters.