2.2.17 The stark farmers fields

We walked down along the stark farmers fields, just as the sun began to set. It was chilly, as I threw the ball, as he delighted in skidding far along the dirt road coated with ice, frosted with a few inches of crusty snow. 

I love it quiet and deserted like this, simple and peaceful, nothing of concern in existence there, just for a small expanse of time.

The land tells the stories of many things; of a horse that galloped, a few days ago, upon the bare soil, where the ice had melted, and then turned back. 

I closed my eyes, imagining the proximity to such a large intelligent creature. The smells and sounds and ground shaking.

I saw the tracks of small group of coyote, of different sizes, who came out of the woods by the river, and walked down the dirt road. I imagined the thick ruffs of fur, the reds and greys and blacks and browns , the wild wild eyes.

There are the tracks daily of someone with big feet and a big dog, and someone else with smaller feet, and a small dog .

Now and then, someone drives partway down, and gets out, with their small crowd of small dogs, and walks down the road a bit with them, the visual patter of many small feet.
But today, no one had been by. 

There were just the vast fields, lain quiet, bordered by sleeping forest and strong rushing river, whose floes are starting once again to spectacularly form, with the temperatures finally approximating normal winter temps.

So round we turned, as the distant star seemed to dip beneath the horizon.
As the day slid smoothly into home.