Winter Drizzle

It’s cold and wet at the Chicken Ranch. Most of the day has been a merge of rain, mist and fog. The temperature has hovered in the refrigerator range, but now heads toward freezing. The winter sky, when visible at all, has been gray and disparaging . The wind has blown the misty rain past the windows like a lace curtain. It obscures the view of the barren fields and then disseminates the moisture among the trees and hedge. Tiny birds duck heads deeper into their breasts as each gust pushes past their roosts.

 I do a check on the animals then head west to the shed. It is a bitter rain that sends a shiver across my shoulders, while I gather wood for the fire. In the chilly mist the occasional smell of wood smoke tells me the fireplace burns well, and I look forward to soon experiencing it’s drying comfort.

It is an inky black night, devoid of stars and moon. The wind has shifted from the west and is hard from the north. My dripping hat sits tight on my head and my collar wraps my neck as I make my way from the woodshed to the house. The house window illuminates the blowing mist and it produces a ghostly, dancing yellow/grey apparition in the darkness of the yard. The fog of my breath is quickly lost in the drizzle.
The roof over the porch drums a ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ as water is loosed from the tree limbs and lands upon the metal. The flag on the pole flops and pops a little in the wind. Everywhere else it is quiet. Only an occasional half-hearted honk of the geese who overnighted in the corn field breaks the silence. Even the coyotes are too miserable to sing tonight. They will hunker down and wait to hunt tomorrow.
I stack the wood with a clunk on the stone hearth and then return to the back door to hang my dampened coat and hat. Back at the fireplace, I place a new log on the fire then stand with my back to the dancing flames. I’m going to warm a little here, then a cup of hot chocolate is in order. It's time to warm the inside… while I dry the outside on this soggy winters eve. Feb 2012