4 PM. Still in town. Hurry, pack up your briefcase. It will be dark soon. Get in the car, turn on the radio and follow the trucks home.
25
45
55
65
Get to the corner. Take a right. Speed up a bit. Notice the sky turning pink. Turn up that song.
Turn left at the white fence. Follow the pavement
Slow down a bit. Check on that tree. Smile. Still looks mysterious and beautiful tonight.
Careful on the curve. Watch for ice. Hum along now. It’s not dark yet.
Turn left on the pink road, notice it’s plowed.
Over the cattle guard. Stop at the mailbox.
Bills and catalogs and no real letters.
There’s never real letters.
Glance in the rearview. Almost home. One more cattle guard, one more hill, one more turn. Open the door.
Kick off town boots. Strip off work pants. Toss earrings in the drawer. Find wool cap and camera.
Where are the damn dogs?
It’s getting dark. Chase it down.
It’s getting dark. Watch it coming. Watch it turn from white to blue.
It’s getting dark. Climb. Climb. Climb.
Crunch. Crunch. Click.
Crunch. Crunch. Breathe.
Dogs pace. 100 steps to my one.
Wish I had fur today.
Wish I had four legs. Wish I could roll in the snow like that.
Wish my ears flopped.
Crunch. Crunch. Whew.
Make it to the top. Breathe. Notice the hay.
Remember how we used to pretend they were Frosted Mini-Wheats and we were shrunken people in a cereal bowl.
Sigh.
Follow the fence line. Time to cross. Don’t rip your pants girl. Easy now.
Walk in the fields, follow the horse trail. Notice the elk tracks. Think they must like Frosted Mini Wheats too.
Crunch. Crunch.
It’s so quiet.
Crunch. Crunch. Except for that wind.
Pull up scarf.
Pull down wool cap.
Lean into the weather. Walk on now. Keep walking. Hit the prairie trail. Follow it through the fence. Stop.
Hands on hips.
Look to the north.
Look at those buttes. Love them in white.
Love them against that pink sky.
Love this place.
Love this wind.
Love this damn cold and these damn dogs.
Love this snow.
Wish I had four legs. Wish I had paws.
Wish I had fur.
Wish I could stay out here all night.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... 
“There’s never real letters” – sadly, this is too true. Real letters are too much of a rarity these days.
Your post is so vivid and the photos are so beautiful.
It’s true Grace, my Grandmother says letter writing is a lost art. She was wonderful at it.
Good post Jessie! I love the pink on the Buttes too, I don’t get to see them in the winter too often.
you definitely love the country.
Thanks for taking me along. Wish you’d told me it would be that cold. I would have put on another layer.
Stuffing mitted hands deep in pockets. Hunched over. Following you up the hill. Seeing the view. Glad I came.
Sounds like the end of my days….so tranquil and peaceful
I’m sitting here in Florida with the air conditioner on in January, of all things,
wishing I was having fun in the snow too. Sigh……
I could almost feel the cold in my lungs. (We haven’t had one snow flake yet this winter and in truth? I’m not missing the snow at all.)
Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, thank you so very much. The package arrived two days ago. I’ve been listening to your CD over and over. Love “A girl needs a dog” … here’s my thank you … http://crittersnus.blogspot.ca/2013/01/i-know-honest-to-gosh-cowgirl.html