Pondering 2022 and 2023

I stepped outside, into the dark before dawn, to search for tranquility.

I depended on the stars to light the way.

It was Christmas morning, before other eyes opened, before my responsibilities insisted on my care.

The early winter cold had eliminated my closely-guarded time set aside to reflect on the season.

Instead of allowing me time to think, the bitter cold forced me to live moment to moment.

I felt my nose hairs freeze as I cranked the tractor.

I felt powdered snow puff away from my feet then, with the next step, felt crunchy snow threaten to hold my foot hostage and toss me to the ground.

I changed a frosty tractor tire after the rim cracked under the stress, tightening lugs with mittened hands, hoping my hand-warmers would last as long as I needed them.

I shoveled snow from under skid steers, pickups and tractors.

I felt my muscles stretch and burn, both with the effort and afterward.

I cussed engineers while I changed a battery that would have been simple if it had not been tucked into a far corner of the skid steer, with barely an inch of clearance on each side.

I remembered the conversions between metric and standard wrenches.

I buried my pickup and horse trailer in a whiteout on a normally busy highway and had to ask for help.

Then I felt the thaw of a Montana Chinook.

I pushed snow away and discovered green grass.

I took a hot bath, splashing water across frostbitten fingers and toes.

I rolled out bright green hay so my livestock could have breakfast.

I found a dry water trough so I packed 32 buckets of water for thirsty animals, all the while hoping the trough would thaw with warm water or at least warm winds.

It did.

At our community Christmas dinner, I saw the smiles, heard the laughter and felt the happiness of people together.

The warm winds gave me time to reflect on 2022.

So many people in my circle of family and friends gladly watch 2022 in the rearview mirror.

Severe drought created uncertainty and doubt in our abilities.

Good friends died, leaving gaping sad holes.

Changes throughout the world came at us rapid-fire, far more quickly than our brains are wired to handle.

Yet, I found some achievements, too.

My son is a better fighter pilot now.

My daughter learned to take online college-level classes.

Some of my family moved closer to me so our relationships are growing.

Throughout the year, I have depended on people and they have come through.

New Year’s Day offers a chance to try again, but I don’t want to forget the lessons that the cold taught me.

In 2023, I want to remember to feel my life, both the hard and easy times.

I want to experience the sights and sounds of the world and the feelings they evoke in me.

I want to smell dirt in my hands and oil on my jeans.

I want to feel sunshine on my back and the chill of dashing from a hot tub through freezing outdoor air to a warm fire.

I want to dance to the rocking rhythm of my horse under my saddle.

I want to smile at a stranger, sled down a hill and crash into a snowbank.

I want to revel in the power of the mountains.

Those moments create the best stories.

When I’m 100 years old and babbling from my wheelchair, I want to tell stories about really, truly living.

I want to tell true-life stories that nobody will ever believe.

May 2023 bring you unbelievable real-life stories, too.

Happy New Year!