When the temperature hovers around zero, snow crunch has a distinctive sound. I stepped out to dump ashes from last night’s wood fire and thought of my son’s theory that, after zero, it doesn’t make much difference because it’s all just too darn cold.
Still, blackbirds are joyous over bright sun, hopeful that spring can’t be far off. By the time this message comes to you, perhaps they’ll be right. But it’s March, and this is Nebraska. Some of our worst blizzards in have occurred in April. August is the only month I haven’t seen a snowflake in the Sandhills. Old timers said that curlews mean there won’t be any more snow. That pelicans won’t set foot in snow. Nor blue herons. I’ve known that to be wrong. Example: this year there have been pelicans on local lakes since February.
Ordinarily, by mid-March, we can discern a hint of green in sheltered spots where the sun persists all day. This warmer winter has disappeared, and brown grasses are hidden under a fluffy blanket of white. But it’s dry snow. Even when it goes, hints of spring will probably sleep for a while longer.
We’re in serious trouble here, folks. War on the horizon, supply chain issues, food shortages, and inflation, topped off with drought. If you live in town, perhaps you haven’t connected all the dots, and are just frustrated with empty shelves and rising gas prices. Maybe you’re starting to consider adjusting your lifestyle. But let me tell you what’s on our minds here in the country.
We wonder if we’ll have to sell the factory. It’s one thing to wean and ship calves early because of drought, but when the grass won’t even carry the mama cows, disaster looms.
We wonder if there’ll be a hay crop at all. Will we be able to find parts for the machinery that breaks down? How much will diesel cost? Maybe we can’t even afford to start the tractor.
Often, rural family members take town jobs to help take up the slack. But will those family members be able to break even driving to and from work?
Perhaps the ads on television, or in newspaper inserts bear fruit, but I wonder if serious minded folks even consider purchasing anything beyond necessities these days. There’s a bit of Scotch in my ancestry so I’m choosing my travels pretty selectively. We used to tease my dad about his mantra to “make a trip of it.” If going to a funeral, he was apt to take the pickup and bring back a load of feed as long as he was in town anyhow.
There was a time, when my kids were small, that I declined second helpings so they wouldn’t have to. I believe Mom did that, and she baked all our bread. I’m becoming my parents.
But Dad never quit looking for that early green in spring, and Mom always found something nice to celebrate, even if it was homemade. We didn’t have all we wanted but we wanted what we had, and really, that’s enough.
I’m a little bit Irish, and the Irish have always been overcomers. I’ll be wearing green on St. Paddy’s Day, and clearing off the flower beds to look for a hint of hope.