rancherwriterpoet

Poetry, musings, reflections, life

Archive for the tag “seasons”

HAPPY NEW YEAR

I awoke this morning to a dastardly chill in the air. When I went to bed last night (long before the New Year arrived) it was 24° and expected to drop even further. Now my friends in the Northeast may be saying, “What’s your problem with 24°?” Well, I live in Texas where it is possible for one to experience four seasons all in the same day, depending upon which part of the state you reside. Me, I’m in North Texas and I can tell you we are in the winter season. It is cold at 24°.

So, when I did finally awake at the distasteful hour of seven a.m., the temperature had dropped to 18°. The weather prognosticators have this saying, “remember the five P’s. Protect People, Pets, Pipes, and Plants. Sounds like good advice to me.

Since out here on the Fuzzy Chicken Farm, we have a motley, hodgepodge, eclectic order of a pack of dogs, a gaggle of geese, and a flock of chickens, we must prepare them for a cold winter’s night.

Now the CEO of the Fuzzy Chicken Farm, i.e., “the Rancherette” , has some significant notions about the feathered friends. Of course these poultry participants are grouped according to their gender, (illegal) the color of their feathers, (illegal) their nationality, (illegal) and the number of toes, (I think illegal)). Because of the grouping, some (those that have crests that cover their eyes), require more attention than do others. (Probably illegal). Me, I just call them chickens and run the dogs.

The dogs are protected from the elements with indoor kennels and radiator type heaters. Earlier this week I wrapped all the outside pipes and placed the fragile plants in the garage, (except the pineapple plant, lost it to the freeze) and prepared all the coops with windbreaks so as to protect the birds from the wind chill. Inside the coop buildings are radiator type heaters that will keep the temperature above freezing. We have outdoor pens as well. These birds are of the more hardy breeds and require less maintenance. Their pens also received windbreaks.

So this morning, at 18°, the “Rancherette” and “the “Rancherwriterpoet” ventured out in the frigid temperature to soothe the birds, calm the dogs and appease the geese. Did I fail to mention the first two P’s in the order of P’s, was to Protect People? I wore long Johns (where did that name come from?), layered my clothing, put on my gloves, and set out to the task at hand, with the “Rancherette” tagging along behind me, saying, “It’s not too bad out here”. She is not native to Texas, she comes from a distant land, Memphis, I think. Tennessee not Egypt. They think differently in Tennessee.

Calming the dogs is a more difficult task. They run freely each day outside their pens and they like it when it is cold. They don’t want to come back to their inside pens, preferring to romp wildly about the back spaces. Of course, it takes them longer and I get colder. The geese are quite adapted to cold weather. They like to swim in the pond even at this cold temperature. I could not appease them this morning. They could not swim today, so they ice skated. But, I was cold. The outdoor chickens did not seem to mind the cold either. However, it was impossible for any outdoor animal to drink water this morning. I had to change out all the waterers due to frozen conditions. That made me even colder. I suppose if I had feathers or fur I might not be so cold.

The temp is expected to stay in the middle twenties until the latter part of this week and people will ask, “what’s going on at your place,” . To which I will say, “Oh, nothing much, I am cold.” To which my friends in South Florida will be agreeing with me. I can say, unequivocally, I am ready for the next season to enter North Texas. Winter has lasted long enough. In the meantime I will be lounging around in my long johns in the warmth of my recliner. It is a New Year, the sun is out this morning, and I hope each of you have a healthy, prosperous and A Happy year ahead.

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I Feel a Little Poem Coming On

I thought I would post my last entry for the year, 2014, with a poem. I ask this question; What is it about the seasonal changes that seem to affect our psyche? I do not know, maybe you do.
The title of this poem has absolutely nothing to do with the contents; I simply liked the wording. So, with apologies to the gospel group “Three Bridges”, I borrowed the title from their song, “I Feel A Little Song Coming On.
Anyway,

I Feel a Little Poem Coming On

On this cold and gloomy morning,
The last few days of the year,
I stand gazing pensively,
from my front door across the pasture.
I see a few cows milling about,
Seemingly, with nothing on their mind
except eating the grass beneath their feet.

Brown grass withering amid patches of green
that sprang up after the fire,
like emeralds leaping from a lifeless painting.
Four hedge apples remain on the leafless branches
of the grand old Bois D’ Arc tree.
Three clustered together, one hanging alone, pitifully.
It is a lonely tree, standing dejected, sadly.

In the distance, the waters of a pond
Shimmer languidly from the wind.
Oblivious to its shrinking circumference
Unaware it is on the brink of disaster.
The drought has taken its toll.
Passing from summer to autumn to winter,
leaving spring far behind.

Outside my window a handful of Cardinals
flutter about pilfering from one another
any tidbit or crumb they find on the ground.
A murder of crows sit atop the Bois D’ Arc tree,
Omnivorous creatures, their eyes darting back and forth.
A Red Tail Hawk soars in the sunless currents above,
while his keen eyesight focuses sharply below.

The creatures of the insect world
Have long since relented to hereditary instincts
It is the changing of the guard.
As I stand before my window of opportunity
I witness the inevitable transformation
That once more rises to the forefront of life
And I am in awe.

Pete Robertson
© December 2014

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