March 1, 2011
“The forecast looked good,” I reminded my grandfather as we marched through the accumulating snow.
“Welcome, to Wisconsin.”
“Well put.” I chuckled. Deer prints from early that day guided us along the trail into the 80 acre woods behind my grandfather’s farm. I followed my grandfather’s size 15 Eddie Bauer foot prints.
Two days before, a high of 50 had melted the midwinter snow, exposing raw fields and the stench of manure for the first time since mid November. Arriving in Milwaukee on Thursday night, I spent a long weekend in Sheboygan County poking around for antiques, enjoying fish fries and most importantly, the rustic serenity of my grandfather’s farm.
I love these colors.
Country road, take me home. John Denver got it.
Sunday I awoke to light flurries as a storm moved in across the plains from the west. Taking the opportunity to explore the recently white landscape, my grandfather and I set out into the woods behind his house.
The heavy falling snow muffled the woods. Occasionally, a branch gave way, shaking the snow resting on top of it. Sparsely breaking the silence, we followed the deer’s tracks in the woods.
Call it a speed bandage for alleviating some of the frustrations of living in New York.