When Greg mentioned that he really needed a 1966 El Camino, I smiled and jokingly told him that I agreed. I knew that he needed one just about as much as I needed four beautiful red tractors. I did, however, add the provision that it was only OK with me as long as the El Camino was red to match my tractors.  ... I should have known.

She loved them, and yellow was her favorite color. Every spring she would decorate her wide brimmed straw hat with newly cut daffodils. She'd carefully sew them on so the thread was hidden.

I knew that it was time for me to head back up the hill and start my next task, refinishing the wooden floor of the little cabin that we had laid when we first came to the valley, 23 years ago.

Soon we'll be riding our zero-turns, but this too can wait. Today my spring chore is working alongside Greg in his shop.

Our little horse, however, does not know how to exercise constraint. I must exercise it for him.

Greg's grandfather was an old-time man, really one of the last of his kind. Greg called him Grandpa, and from Greg’s very first memories, he followed him about and learn his ways.

The first day of spring is just a few weeks away. Long lists of all the things that I will need to do fly about, crashing against the sides of my mind.

I love waking up in the morning when it’s cold outside, and the woodstove fire has turned to glowing embers. There is a chill on the tip of my nose. I roll over and bury myself deeper under the covers.

Greg and I know how to take off our chore boots, or wipe our feet, when we return inside the cabin, but our dear dog does not. Muddy paw prints decorate the wooden floors.

I knew that a doozy of a task awaited my doing, and I was far from inclined to get started. All I wanted was lallygag at my warm workbench and fiddle with my marbles.

Some folks plan ahead. We don't, or perhaps you could say that we plan not to plan ahead, but more likely that's just how I like to think of it. Rather than gather up a winter's supply of firewood before the fall temperatures drop, we wait for that first cool day, and only then head out into the woods.

This morning, I woke up and looked out the window at our creek valley world. Snow had started falling and was quickly accumulating. There was deep white everywhere I looked.

My heart stood still. The 100-year-old green turret clock stood shoulder high amid hundreds of other smaller clocks inside Taylor's Fine Timepieces. I had no reason to fall instantly in love, other than that the clock's strong beat sounded like music to my ears.

I thought it seemed curiously warm inside the cabin for an early winter day. Typically, when the fire dies down overnight, the cabin cools a bit, but not this morning. I checked the outside temperature on my phone. It was 62° and there was a 90% chance of rain. Yes, indeed. It was warm, and it was raining.

Kitty is probably the most beautiful dog we have known. Her fur is a sleek shiny black, so smooth that dirt and farm debris slide right off.