Monday, December 3, 2012

Dreaming of Home

   It may be December, but our southern home has been unseasonably warm and disturbingly muggy. Hopes of 'white Christmases' and evenings by the fire seem lost in the gunk. Standing in the laundry, sweat dripping down my neck, a sense of longing filled me..a longing for home. Days of prairie Christmases are long gone, but they are never truly far away when my heart starts dreaming of home.
   Thanksgiving festivities have come and gone; the prairie falls silent. Morning dawns with magical surprise as snow flurries flutter across the prairie softly blanketing barren fields. Frosty windows transform into perfect canvases for creative little fingers. Grandma reminds me..those windows do not clean themselves. Nothing dampens the anticipation swelling with in me--Christmas is coming!
    Shopping plans are made- a long car ride to the next town is torture for an anxious farm girl. Visions of winter wonderland scenery play outside the car window as the long ride brings us across the farmland. Once at the store beautiful greenery and bright colored decorations spark my deep desire for this beautiful season. I can't wait to get back to the farmhouse and start 'making ready.'
   Day falls as we travel back home; unloading the car in the chill reminds me evening chores will be dreadfully cold. Snow crunches under my boots as I trek down the drive toward the big old barn. Warm noses nuzzle me as feed is cast. I slip off my gloves to let rough tongues gently swipe my fingers. No one likes chopping frozen water troughs..not even me! Yet, the victory of breaking through the glossy sheet of hard ice is sweet as the cows crowd around for a drink. Those soft warm bodies radiate such heat I can't resist the urge to snuggle one.
   Trudging back toward the farmhouse frost glistens from the old red water pump- I remember stories of my mom sticking her tongue on it- a giggle slips from deep within me and breaks the silent scene. There I stand  for just a moment, to take in the view before me: soft snow sparkles in the dusky light, prairie wind lends its sorrowful moan, the rustle of a nearby tree.
   Closing my eyes I tilt my head toward the setting prairie sun. A deep breath fills my lungs with cold crisp air sending a shiver over my whole body. My prairie is changing bringing anticipation of new things- a longing. Joy and wonder abound in my heart... I am here in the midst of a magical change.


Dicky Bird said...

Ahh, Christmases (sp?) past...just not the same now! I remember several kids who got their tongue stuck to the play ground equipment...screams, crying, "don't pull it off" from the teachers as they run to get some warm water. I never did it, but I can still see Skeeter Jones crying because she did...

Simply Scaife Family said...

Yikes! I don't recall ever seeing someone actually do awful.

Michelle said...

We lived in Alaska where it was always a white Christmas. Now we live in a hot climate. I miss my snow and the joy of playing in ti.

Simply Scaife Family said... That must have been quite a change!