I need to look up the details of how a tree’s life support system functions. I guess I’m more artist than scientist, but I do marvel at the mechanisms by which all living things sustain themselves – with the help of a universal energy source.
This was a wondrous day, considering it’s November. Getting chilly now, as the sun is setting.
But the daytime temp hovered around seventy. Not a breeze stirring. The tree branches, most lacking leaves, are starkly clear against the soft pink and lavender shade of the eastern sky.
Yes, I do mean eastern. Tonight the sky above the setting sun is nearly white. Not sure how that happened. Maybe it’s the time of year. It’s so often cloudy in November, and we so seldom focus on mid-autumn sunsets. They come so quickly now.
I try not to dread the shortening hours of daylight, but can’t help it. The chance of snowflakes, too, is troubling. But there is hope on the horizon for our human interactions. The election drama is over (we hope). Perhaps this day will usher in a time when we’ll come together to conquer the pandemic and all the unfairness suffered by so many.
This unseasonably fair and windless November day could be a hopeful portent for a more peaceful future.
I’ve been greatly in need of a few hours (or days) of doing nothing. Thankfully, this weekend I got my chance, as Spring Plowing Days commenced at a location not far from home.
Few pastimes are more relaxing than hanging out with horses. Especially draft horses – gentle giants of the equine world – “real horses” as this window decal on one of the owners’ vehicles attests. I didn’t notice until I posted this – the fitful clouds of the breezy spring day are reflected on the glass behind the pink horse. How cool is that?!
The two huge creatures in front of me as I write, a Percheron and a Belgian, are tied to a line strung between two trees, enabling them to enjoy a delectable appetizer of maple leaves. Apparently the greenery is more appealing than the hay supplied in bags suspended from the line securing the two huge animals.
Wind whips the tall grass on the hillside and the manes and tails of a pair of gray and white Percherons pulling a plow across a rich brown field, steel blades striking the soil and flipping it as a continuous ribbon, creating a neatly textured pattern of ridges and furrows.
Twitters of sparrows building nests under the eaves of a shed blend with the subdued chatter of the exhibitors and visitors.
Log skidding, obstacle course and weight pulling competitions await as I experience this slice of what life was like a century ago, before technology took over our lives, shifting society’s focus from family farms and small town shops to big business.
I’ve watched some of these exhibitors for thirty years. Since we both were young. Before they had children. Now some have grandchildren trailing behind their horses in front of crowds of people that are pitifully small compared to those of a couple decades ago.
Do younger generations no longer appreciate animal competitions or is it just that publicity is lacking for these peaceful, soul renewing exhibitions?