Winter’s children help adults see the season’s beauty

I can’t say it’s a favorite pastime to slink into a pair of stiff insulated coveralls, hike up the winter boots (and whatever else needs hiking up); and cover my hands with gloves that could take on a life of their own, just to go out and feed the sheep.

TABLE TALK

But when you live in what could be officially classified as ‘tundra,’ it’s a reality which simply cannot be ignored. Winter will arrive at some point, and you just have to be ready … like hearing from your doctor who says you need a colonoscopy.

By Karen Schwaller

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Little does he know, however, the snow mountains he makes with the loader are a kid’s biggest excitement of the winter. Hardly a kid I know doesn’t happily slide into his/her snow pants, winter coat, boots, hat and gloves just to be able to hike up that mountain and slide down it blissfully (and at breakneck speed) before stopping abruptly at the bottom.

Over and over. I’m sure it was how chiropractors were born.

Well, hearing that news is not really the part you need to be ready for…..

When the snow starts falling, my husband finds not a bit of excitement in it. He lumps it in the same classification as mowing the yard.

“It’s just an expense,” he says, because he finds it unproductive to move snow around in the yard — unless he’s doing it to help the neigh-

There is something we can learn from the kiddies.

They can always discover excitement wherever they go, because they don’t know something is supposed to be a pain in the back pew.

The snow had been falling lightly for a few short hours as I made my way into town one day, and I drove by a pasture with cows in it. Of course, they were all standing in a group, staying warm and no doubt exchanging pleasantries since they were all so close to each other.

It was breathtaking to see the light snow cover on the backs of those black cows. A little winter white amid all the dark and dreary, muddy colors of late fall and early winter. And they were content, just standing there, looking around and not minding being the center of attention.

Later that day, as I was clearing the deep snow from the hood and windshield of the car, I happened to look up into a nearby tree. Void of its leaves, the tree was still bearing what looked like red berries. There, with the cold north wind and snow blowing, were half a dozen yellow and gray birds — singing their songs softly and appearing to not have a care in the world.

Once again, Mother Nature creates a wonder, and turns us into winter’s children.

A few short years ago I was about to leave on a long winter’s night to head into town, when something stopped me. There on the garage door windows was a sight so striking that I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

Mother Nature had sent us a bit of a winter storm that day, and left the most intricate, delicate, lace-andpearl-patterned, wedding gown-like design on the windows. No artist could have created something so elaborate nor so detailed in its exactness nor its beauty. I took photos of the windows from inside and outside, because their beauty was different from both views, but just as magnificent.

For farm families, winter does pose more work and inconvenience as they try to get done what they get done every other day of the year without thinking about it. And winter storms are mostly an assault to the very notion of efficiency on the farm.

But now and then, it’s good to stop and think of “snow mountains” for winter’s children, rather than just “snow piled up.” Because there is excitement to be had on both the ascent and the descent if you’re a kid. Each time at the bottom, it was worth the arduous climb to the top.

Sometimes as adults we forget that there is hidden beauty and philosophical meaning behind child’s play — especially, with winter’s children.

Karen Schwaller brings “Table Talk” to The Land from her home near Milford, Iowa. She can be reached at kschwaller@evertek.net. v