The ranch that butts up to our property has cattle roaming the range. Not many, five or six heifers with their calves. The ranch is a fair size, so I mostly see them when they come to drink at the windmill or wander by our fence grazing fresh green grass.

What a nice surprise. Eight hours of sleep. All at once. Straight through. One tiny wake-up, I think, it may have been a dream. Feels like the old days. Go to bed, wake up to the alarm. Can I repeat the feat tonight? We shall see.

What a day. It started snowing mid-morning and continued snowing through early evening. When it was all said and done the ground was covered in a blanket of snow and all its imperfections were erased.

I could really do with a hard freeze. Something in the teens. Winter is passing here in the Hill Country and we’ve yet to see one. There’s a bit of rain this morning and a front is on the way. But it’s only going down into the high 20s this weekend, and no one has ever called that hard.

I can really sense the tempo of the earth at morning. Get a feel for the slow spin of the planet on its axis in its heavenly circle around the sun. It’s a measured pace of big things in a big place…

Timing. One day I can walk out the back door and there’s a brilliant sunset for the viewing. On another I can walk out and the clouds are a steel gray and the sun is gone and whatever light painted them colors is someone else’s memory.

Winter is having trouble making up its mind. I had a spring-like day on the golf course yesterday with my brother. Today promises more of the same, warm weather not golf. Winter must have forgotten it has a job to do and let spring back in the house.

The southern porch sits close by the fence that marks one of our property lines. Consequently, we get fence trees, mainly hackberries. Sometimes they’re right on the fence, sometimes just off. A while back we had one just off and I let it grow.

There are three cameras monitoring the nightly comings and going of the local wildlife, which consist mainly of a fox, two skunks, a possum, an occasional deer, and what I’m sure is an assort of raccoons.

Spring. We all think about it. We all love it; especially, when the days shorten to next to nothing and the cold pushes us indoors. And perhaps that’s why no one celebrates the green underfoot as the so called winter weeds begin to appear…

For years a big metal sunflower, a gift from my wife’s Ya-Ya’s, has stood hidden behind the big rose bush at the east end of the house. When it was first placed there, the rose was small, the burr oak a young tree, the yaupon holly a child, and the Orchid tree equally small.

There appears to be moisture in the air this morning and the garage apron looks wet. I’m not going to dignify it and say its rain. Although, we need rain, and it would be nice if some would come.

I was thinking about joy yesterday and trying to remember where I used to find it. And while I was thinking about it the subject of happiness came up as did pleasure and I began to wonder how inter-related they all were and if you could have one without the others.

Yesterday, I decided I needed something to contemplate, some tiny thing. Some obscure thing that didn’t even know I was looking. Some thing that could use a good writing about, even though most folks wouldn’t give it a second glance.

It’s a nice feeling in the bed beneath the covers in the dark on a cold morning. Everything feels just right. It’s that magical time before you’re born again into a new day.

Our big flame leaf sumac finally gave us a show of color this year, less the scarlet seen on a few of its roadside cousins, but enough red and yellow to qualify as a fall spectacle.

Made a dessert yesterday. Basically flour, butter, pecans, cream cheese, whipped cream, and chocolate pudding, all layered up. By name, we called it Cajun Delight, partly I think because, butter.

It’s Sunday and the big four-day weekend is nearly over. Thanks has been given for family, friends, and whatever blessings have fallen my way.

I stood in the sun yesterday on the southern porch. I had stopped, on a tour of the grounds, to admire the three lavender plants thriving there. It was a cool day and a winter sun.

This is what I call winter. It’s 36 outside. We could still use some rain, and I have no idea if any is in the immediate forecast. At this point, I’m pretty sure I don’t care.