So many times in the dead of winter, as I sit in front of a roaring fire, wrapped in my electric blanket, watching the snow fly and swirl against the frosty windows, and listen to the wind howl and pound against the roof, I ask myself, what the heck am I doing in this frigid place? I love the sun! I love to be warm and I despise being cold. I should have been born a lizard so all I had to do was sit on a rock in the sun. But, nope, I'm here in the frozen arctic of Southeast Idaho. Then comes a day like today and I remember, "oh ya, this is why I live in Idaho."
Today I was driving into the foothills to do a little errand and I was aghast at the beauty that assaulted all my senses. I found myself drinking everything in with my eyes as if I were a man scorched with thirst. I could see the windmills standing like sentinels in the early morning haze along the ridge of the foothills. Today their enormous blades were completely still, a rarity here since the wind always blows. But, today it was eerily calm. On one side of the road waved a vast sea of amber grain, ripe and ready to be cut and on the other side laid rows of freshly mowed alfalfa. It was green and moist, not yet dried and ready to be bailed. The smell filled the air like perfume and I wished there was a way to capture a scent digitally like a picture, to be released on one of those terrible cold days in December. The sky above was as blue as the ocean and went on forever. There wasn't a cloud to be seen anywhere. A flock of geese flew high above and their honking floated down and drifted into my ears, soon to be replaced with the gentle, rhythmic pulsing of the sprinkler heads on the huge pivot lines as they sprayed their life giving water on the blossoming fields of potatoes. The air was sweet and fresh and I could leave all my windows open and let it float through the house because the temperature was a perfect 68 degrees. Ironically, when I keep my furnace at 68 degrees in the winter, I am always freezing. But in the summer, that same 68 degrees is delightful and invigorating. Go figure.
When I returned home from my little trip through Paradise, I found three luscious, red, ready to be picked, tomatoes hanging among the clusters of green ones on my plants and I picked them greedily. I instantly sliced them up and gobbled them down. They were as sweet as candy and I found myself begging the others on the vine to hurry up and ripen so I could enjoy them as well.
Today was a gorgeous testament to validate my choice to live forever in Southeast Idaho. Winter will return, and most likely sooner than I would like. Before long I will once again be moaning and complaining and asking myself what the heck I am doing in this frozen wasteland. But, hopefully I can hold on to the sights and sounds I soaked into my brain today and they will get me through the cold, dark days until summer returns again. But, if not, then thank Heaven for sky miles and my friend who lets me escape to her sunny Texas haven when the cold gets to be too much.
Today I was driving into the foothills to do a little errand and I was aghast at the beauty that assaulted all my senses. I found myself drinking everything in with my eyes as if I were a man scorched with thirst. I could see the windmills standing like sentinels in the early morning haze along the ridge of the foothills. Today their enormous blades were completely still, a rarity here since the wind always blows. But, today it was eerily calm. On one side of the road waved a vast sea of amber grain, ripe and ready to be cut and on the other side laid rows of freshly mowed alfalfa. It was green and moist, not yet dried and ready to be bailed. The smell filled the air like perfume and I wished there was a way to capture a scent digitally like a picture, to be released on one of those terrible cold days in December. The sky above was as blue as the ocean and went on forever. There wasn't a cloud to be seen anywhere. A flock of geese flew high above and their honking floated down and drifted into my ears, soon to be replaced with the gentle, rhythmic pulsing of the sprinkler heads on the huge pivot lines as they sprayed their life giving water on the blossoming fields of potatoes. The air was sweet and fresh and I could leave all my windows open and let it float through the house because the temperature was a perfect 68 degrees. Ironically, when I keep my furnace at 68 degrees in the winter, I am always freezing. But in the summer, that same 68 degrees is delightful and invigorating. Go figure.
When I returned home from my little trip through Paradise, I found three luscious, red, ready to be picked, tomatoes hanging among the clusters of green ones on my plants and I picked them greedily. I instantly sliced them up and gobbled them down. They were as sweet as candy and I found myself begging the others on the vine to hurry up and ripen so I could enjoy them as well.
Today was a gorgeous testament to validate my choice to live forever in Southeast Idaho. Winter will return, and most likely sooner than I would like. Before long I will once again be moaning and complaining and asking myself what the heck I am doing in this frozen wasteland. But, hopefully I can hold on to the sights and sounds I soaked into my brain today and they will get me through the cold, dark days until summer returns again. But, if not, then thank Heaven for sky miles and my friend who lets me escape to her sunny Texas haven when the cold gets to be too much.
