I went out snowshoeing in my "backyard" this morning. I'm poor at judging distances to tell you how big it is, but it reminds me of the fields out at Peace Huts--rolling hills, tall grass, occasional fences--only all covered with at least two feet of snow. Here's what's out there:
a perfect red barn, with an 'x' on the doors and a rooster weather vane, frosted in white
tiny strands of wheat, coated in tiny ice crystals, poking up from beneath the snowy blanket
a dilapidated shed, the roof covered in a foot of snow, making it want to cave in, and the floor covered with a foot of straw
an incredible sparkling field of diamonds, that shimmers as the sun hits it right
a tiny fox, running for cover from the big-footed monster, even though he could outrun me 10 times out of 10
the Two-Bit Ranch, on the other side of the county road, with a wrought-iron sign hanging at the front of the 1/4 mile gravel drive, just like it should be
and a bit closer to the house, a hot tub, perfect for soaking in 101 degree warmth below your chin while the snow falls on your hands and face. it's a striking contrast, exhilerating
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