Slushy Sights

Saturday, January 18, 2020

In the aftermath of a sudden heavy snowstorm the previous evening, I trekked the horses yesterday through slushy streets to the pasture where they spend daylight hours. On my shoe bottoms were lightweight cleats, but the road felt less slippery than it appeared, so before leaving to walk home I unstrapped and stuffed the cleats into a jacket pocket.

Also before leaving, I checked the water level in their trough and found myself facing a massive ice layer. It needed chopping through and my usual “tool”, a three-foot block of wood for slamming against and into ice, proved inadequate. To avoid having to go home and return with an iron mallet, I wandered to my neighbor’s barn and discovered half-buried in snow a drain shovel. That’s a shovel long and skinny, with a round and somewhat sharp nose. Holding the shovel high with its nose pointed to the ice, I used all my strength to pound repeatedly into the ice layer and finally managed to create a crack. That began the breaking-up toward a drinkable supply.

The ice layer was about 4″ thick and I should have captured it in a photo, but forgot. Anyway, here’s one from those moments of cute Pimmy. She’s nearby and like her buddies looking for grass.

After leaving the horses and coming home, a tree captured my attention by appearing different from usual with new snow creating highlights. This photo of that tree serendipitously reveals our slushy walkway.

The tree’s appeal knocked into action my right brain and made me start seeing artistically. It seemed a good idea to capture portions of the trunk, to add perspectives in images of the surroundings. I began by taking a low shot under the canopy that shows the terrain’s upward nature.

The next photo achieves more what I hoped to capture. The nearby tree lends the perspective of distance against a far group of naked aspens. Those trees, about 100 yards away, mark an entranceway to the pasture where my horses grazed.

The horses remained in that pasture several hours, and most likely without finding adequate edible grass. On arriving home they hurried to some left-over “filler hay”, with Rosie not even waiting for her reward (an orange for behaving well on our walk home). After handing Sunni and Pimmy their treats, I carried Rosie’s to her and watched the bright color disappearing in a mouthful of hay.

Dear Friends: This morning, again with new snow, will offer more right-brain treats. Diana