While most of the blogs I write these days also appear in the Daily Globe newspaper, this isn’t one of them you’ll be seeing in print.
I don’t want my dad to read it. Actually, I don’t want him to read it and then say, “I told you so!”
(I’m sure you all can relate to that phrase!)
I drove out to the farm after work last night to find the four-wheeler beckoning. Well, alright, it didn’t say, “Come on, let’s go tear around on the snow and ice,” but it tempted me none-the-less.
I hopped on with my thin jacket, sans scarf, hat, mittens — those things a father tells his daughter (and sons and grandkids) that one shouldn’t be caught without during a Minnesota winter.
The ride wasn’t really that bad — at least not until I drove out beyond the grove and ran smack into the westerly winds.
I’d crossed the hay field before having fleeting thoughts of turning around, but gee, I’d come so far. (Truthfully, I wasn’t even to the half-way point of my destination, but that’s beside the point.)
Thinking that if I pressed my thumb a little harder on the gas lever, I’d endure the pain of the biting air for a shorter duration didn’t work either. It just made me colder, faster.
Finally, I reached the top of the pasture overlooking Peterson Slough.
This is one of my favorite places to be, regardless of the season.
I pulled the camera out of my pocket and snapped some pictures — proof the badly needed moisture that finally arrived over the weekend has brought water to our creeks, sloughs and lakes.
The breeze atop the hill was minimal. In fact, it felt quite balmy compared to the freezing winds I encountered on the drive.
Still, I didn’t stay in my favorite spot for longer than a couple of minutes. I turned the ATV around, traversed the slippery slope of ice as I steered toward the waterway and punched the gas lever to get me back home.
At one point, I looked down at my thumb to make sure it was still there. I couldn’t move it — I couldn’t feel it. (My other hand had long been stuffed into a pocket by then, but I needed my right hand on the handlebar and my right thumb on the gas lever if I intended to get back to the farm house.)
I stepped into the house and heard Mom say, “Cold?”
My answer was a rather meek “Yeeeaaah,” as I put my right hand to my face and tried to thaw it out with puffs of warm air.
I knew my answer wasn’t loud enough for Dad to hear from the living room, but he had a response for me, none-the-less — something about “You’re going to catch a good cold going out there without a hat on!”
I hid in the bathroom, running warm water over my hands. The redness extended from the tips of my fingers to almost midway up the palm of my right hand. The warm water felt good — and so did the towel I wrapped around it.
My fingers hadn’t yet had a chance to thaw completely when my dog, Molly, and I got in the car and went for a little drive down to the Bella well fields. I figured if there was water in Peterson Slough, and water in the Ocheyedan Creek that runs behind our farm, through the land in front of our farm and into Lake Bella, there must be some water in Bella.
There was, and I took pictures of the wonderful sight.
I also snapped a photo of the eight deer that had crossed onto the neighbor’s farm, although my apologies for it being a little blurry. I can’t do much without my right hand, and since it was still in the process of thawing out, my guess is I didn’t hold the camera quite steady enough.
Anyway, enjoy the pictures and laugh at the story behind them if you must. Next time, I’ll be sure to wear my mittens!