The footing was a bit precarious, to say the least, as I fought to keep my balance atop our little 6-foot-high haystack on Saturday afternoon.
Howling gusts of wind threatened to knock me right off, and the ragged old tarp, which Lindsey and I were trying desperately to tie down, was causing quite the ruckus with its wild flapping. Heck, the whipping and snapping of frayed plastic was so loud, it even drowned out the goats — and believe you me, they were bleating up a storm all by themselves!
With each burst of wind, Lindsey and I were slammed with clouds of swirling dust and hay. It stung your eyes. It got in your mouth. Simply put, it was a miserable experience. But at last, the battle was over. The hay was covered, the tarp (or what was left of it) was secure, the hatches were battened down, and everything was tucked in nice and cozy for the winter storm to arrive.
When Lindsey and I finally staggered into the house and pushed the door shut against the howling gale, our cheeks were raw and wind-burned and our eyes were red and itchy from all the blowing hay and grit — but at least we had a warm dinner waiting for us.
(We also had two sobbing little girls waiting for us, but that’s beside the point.)
It’s kinda hard to imagine that just a few hours earlier, the world had been warm and clear and calm. As a matter of fact, the sky was so soft and blue and the weather was so inviting — and most importantly, the dirt in our garden was dry enough — that I had gone and planted our peas.
Now, all semblance of Springtime had vanished; sand-blasted away by the howling wind, with a heavy blanket of snow soon to come.
As the whole family sat down at the table, more than ready to dig into our piping hot Philly-cheesesteak-sandwiches (made from Rump’s heart, and piled high on a loaf of Lindsey’s homemade French bread, in case you were wondering), I couldn’t help but reflect on how much I love just taking the seasons as they come.
If the Good Lord wants to give me a calm Spring morning, I’ll cherish it. I’ll soak in the sunshine, take the dog for a run, and maybe even get the garden started.
On the other hand, if He thinks we need more winter, I’ll make sure the hay is covered, thank Him for the added snowpack, and then take my little girl out sledding.
At that particular moment, even though the wind was screaming just outside our home — and in the days to come, the mercury was projected to dip dangerously towards the south-end of zero, I was content. God had given us two seasons in one day, and I was determined to enjoy all of it — with another mug of homemade hot chocolate.
Plunging once again into the deepness of winter, I was reminded of the quote by Horace L. Friess:
“All seasons are beautiful for the person who carries happiness within.”