We moved the heavy (uncalved) heifers to the pasture in front of our home, right out our picture window. This morning as the sun rose over Higham’s Peak, streaking pink and then orange, the outlines of the cows appeared. We watched a mother and her brand new baby coming across the pasture. The calf would follow mom slowly for a bit and then lope a circle around her while she twirled a 360 to keep him within view. Then the baby would run away and mom would follow, her neck outstretched and ears thrown forward with concern.
One winter morning, out this same window, we watched a coyote hunting in the snow. He tiptoed all senses on high alert, listening . . . then would pounce and gulp down his prize. He gobbled up seven mice, one after the other as we watched. When we got the two young horses, Gent and Jane, we watched the older geldings in power plays to win Jane’s attention. On other mornings the horses graze quietly, with dominance games settled, they paw through the snow for their breakfast.
This changing pastoral scene is the backdrop to our lives. When we’re very old we’ll still relish that first cup of coffee of the day and the life out our front door. It’s not particularly majestic, just a pasture backed by humble sandhills and the sage covered Blackfoot River Mountains in the distance. In July the grass lies in windrows awaiting the baler. In September, rabbit brush in bloom dot the hills with gold. And in January and February the snow lies quiet, the sky gray and icy.
Designers talk about the focal point of a living space. This is ours - the view. And as we watch the sun take the day from its slowly moving vantage, east to west and back again, we live our lives. Coffee anyone?