A Gradual Descent

     This past Saturday while trudging through a thin layer of snow to bring in a horse from the back field, it occurred to me that we've been introduced to winter temperatures in a much more gentle fashion this year (minus the Oct. snowstorm that was like a bad acid trip). As I went through the path between the hedgerow, into the open field the wind caressed my face with silky cold air, causing my cheeks to grow pink. For a moment, I was captivated by the incredible pastel palate across the westerly sky as the sun began to sink below the Catskills. I even smiled.

    Each week I look ahead for the upcoming forecast. A few weeks ago the presence of a 60 degree day in the weekly roster would make my heart soar. With the exception of mud and continuous blanket changes for the horses that is a blessed temperature for this time of year. Then I let my expectations drop to a more realistic number, mid-50's would be just fine, even low 50's, totally acceptable. Yesterday I was outside hanging up Christmas decorations in the crisp 45 degree sunshine, with no gloves on and strangely enough it felt tolerable.  Now I'm no rube when it comes to northeastern winters, so I know it's going to get ugly at some point. There will be bitter cold, winds that feel like a dish towel snapping at your face, snowstorms, power outages, etc. It's all coming. But for now 44 is the new 74 around these parts.