It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river I could skate away on
With all the flurry and the hurry and the brouhaha whirling around town, I'm worn out just watching it from the sidelines. There's always excitement in the air at Christmas time no matter where you are. Even if you try to steer clear from the commotion you can't avoid the spirit of the season.
We found a Fraser Fir tree that traveled all the way from the Appalachians. Little white lights were wrapped around her, and six handmade ornaments were hung on branches ever so precisely.
This time every year I bake scads of Bison, Bird and Cactus cut-out cookies with my girlfriend. We laugh and carry on in my warm kitchen with Skye winding in and out between our legs. On the stereo is a CD called Stockings by the Fire. When that "River" song comes on, sung by Corinne Bailey Rae & Herbie Hancock, we start singing along...I wish I had a river I could skate away on...
I'm a homebody for the most part. When I'm not out seeing the world, when the Mustangs aren't in reach, and when the snow is too deep, I'm just fine huddled around my little heater watching the flames, flipping through all my books on Pronghorn, prairies, field guides, identifying animal tracks, Yurts, New Mexico, and Yellowstone in winter. I close my eyes and think about Red Feather. I miss that old trailer, covered in snow.
It's been a contemplative time for me these days. Winter does that to me. It's nothing new. Anyway, I like the fact that having winter, with all her cold and snow, gives me more of an excuse to slow down, to linger with my books, to dream by the fire...I close my eyes and think about the wild horses. Where's Poney Boy? I wonder.
Snow falls on adobe. Everything is white. Icicles are dangling. It's wintertime in Wyoming. And like the horses, I'm hiding. Like the bears, I'm hibernating.
Oh, I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly