The dark arms of the trees strike out against shades of azure so arrestingly beautiful they take my breath away.
A growing crowd of winter wraps are hugging the hooks by the front door...masses of heavy coats capped by the light jackets and swathed in trailing scarves. Minnesotans have a distinctive penchant for winter fashion and, small wonder, we especially love our coats. The polar fleece vest and the heavy down snow coat, the formal trench coat and the light jacket all hold their own indispensable place.
In our house at least, winter garments far outnumber summer garments...and astronomically outweigh them. All my favorite clothes belong in this category. I love bundling up in them. Scarves to settle my chin into, layers to wrap around my shoulders, socks to cozy my toes. There is comfort and security and rest wrapped up in the look and feel and smell of winter clothes. Yes the smell...they spend hours imbibing the scents of countless fires, settling onto the creaky family room couch with hundreds of comfortable guests in the light of aforementioned fires and saturating the rich aromas of a thousand piping winter dinners. A thick wool sweater evokes images of some of our favorite things on the farm...steaming cups of coffee and tea, snow, early mornings, long days cutting wood, good books.Something about all the tucking away and storing up inspires its own kind of anticipation...similar to the keen thrilling craving that comes in spring for plowing and sowing. I find myself nearly ready to open a seed catalogue again with relish...but not until we have completely buried ourselves in the hot, spicy, steamy, gregarious, bursting-at-the-seams Thanksgiving kitchen.
Better even than eating good food is planning it...conjuring up images of everything that brings comfort to the palate and hence enthusiasm and contentment to the conversation. Right about now I am dangerous on a shopping trip. My eyes are bigger than our refrigerator and cupboards combined. Mama and I couldn’t resist the dates on our grocery trip today...she said “dates in your oatmeal” and I grabbed extra boxes. Every kind of food sounds appealing...to make. And I’m not even dreaming about eating anything yet! This is the special privilege of the cook...a double measure of anticipation. Our fresh diet is still supplied almost exclusively from the farm...loads of steamy squash, smooth buttery potatoes, strong sweet onions. Throw in a favorite herb and some frozen beans, pull a savory so-tender-it-falls-apart-in-your-hands chicken out of the crock-pot, drench the potatoes with gravy from the drippings and eat like a king. I am beginning to plan for bacon and eggs or ham and cloves and the pigs are nearly ready for market.
The last market just rolled into the gathered endeavors of the year. The remaining bounty is for us to enjoy. When we are powerless to bring food for ourselves from the ground, we are made glaringly aware of our absolute reliance on our Maker. The time will come to break out the first jar of tomatoes, the first bag of beans...when we will be compelled day by day to give thanks.
God thunders wondrously with his voice;
he does great things that we cannot comprehend.
For to the snow he says,
‘Fall on the earth,’
likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour.
He seals up the hand of every man,
that all men whom he made may know it.
Then the beasts go into their lairs,
and remain in their dens.
From its chamber comes the whirlwind,
and cold from the scattering winds.
By the breath of God ice is given,
and the broad waters are frozen fast.
he does great things that we cannot comprehend.
For to the snow he says,
‘Fall on the earth,’
likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour.
He seals up the hand of every man,
that all men whom he made may know it.
Then the beasts go into their lairs,
and remain in their dens.
From its chamber comes the whirlwind,
and cold from the scattering winds.
By the breath of God ice is given,
and the broad waters are frozen fast.
~Job 37:5-10
Craig, Karen and The Six Arrows
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