As dawn blushes on the new day, I gaze out.  Snow cuddles the world close to its breast. 

A foot and a half of snow.  It sneaked upon us, when the world slept.  On cold, small feet it crept into our fields and climbed the roofs of our houses.  With whispers, it shushed the birds and sang the small creatures to sleep.  

New year is coming fast!  I'm dusting off my list of goals that I wrote up last year for this year.  Thinking of goals I want to strive for this coming year. 

I want to get the land to a maintenance only point so I can just kind of sit back and enjoy it. 

I have a blog in the great wide world:  wingsfromwords.blogspot.com  I post short stories and meditations on it. 

I also have a blog with the most adorable three day old puppies on it!  They are papillons.  Come visit them at papillonsrlove.blogspot.com

As the darkness stretches and the light is edged away, the warmth of home wards me against the chill.  How fortunate am I that the lights of home wrap me in golden strands. 

During this season, and throughout the year, this then is my hope for you:  may your home be your refuge; may your friends and family be your warmth. 

                                                   The Killing Pens (Part 2)

                                                                The Killing Pens (Part 1)
At twelve years old, Madelaine Jacobs never thought she would steal a horse.  But at the time, it seemed the only logical thing to do.
The stench of the barn gagged her as she crept along the aisle, one hand on a row of stalls to guide her. When she was far enough from the front of the barn, she flicked on her small flashlight, keeping her fingers over the lens so only thin beams pierced the Stygian blackness.  She ran the light over the nearest stall, gasping at the ribs and hipbones showing through the horse's whip-cut hide.  Tears quickened in her eyes as she gritted her teeth and forced herself to move on.  Black Wind's soft nicker called to her from further beyond.
Anger crashed over her.  Just because Grandmother had a stroke didn't mean Uncle David had the right to sell the horses.  And to sell Black Wind to slaughter men!  How could he? Didn't he care if Grandmother died of a broken heart?  Seemd like all he cared about was how much he'd save the estate if the horses were gone. Said he had a right to care about the estate since he'd inherit.
  She supposed he would since Dad, his brother, died ten years ago. But not anytime soon!  Dr. Robert's said just yesterday he was moving Grandmother to transitional care.  Uncle David said that meant nursing home.  But, it didn't! Grandmother would get well and ride Black Wind in the Meadow's Endurance Race this coming summer, she just knew it.  Grandmother didn't believe in giving up.
And, she wasn't giving up, either.  The leather hackmore and reins in her left hand reassured her.  She'd get Black Wind out of this awful place.
At last she got to Black Wind's stall.  The stall door latched with a sliding bolt and wood dowels held the three upper planks in place.  Less than two minutes later, Madelaine slipped into the stall.  In the three days it had taken her to locate the horse, it looked as if no one had cleaned this place.  Strong ammonia from puddles of urine burned her nose and she couldn't walk for stepping into piles of manure.  The few wisps of hay she'd checked out by flashlight sported mold.  Probably why Black Wind hadn't eaten them.
The young filly dropped her head to accept the hackmore then Madelaine led her to the far side of the barn  aisle, clambered up on a rusty tractor bucket and pulled herself up on the horse. With a handful of wiry black mane wrapped around her fist, she quietly clucked her tongue. The horse ambled down the aisle amid the nickers and calls of the other poor horses. How she wished she could help them all, but she couldn't.
As Black Wind stepped out of the partially open barn door, Madelaine spotted the dim beam of a flashlight bobbing down the hill from the farmhouse.  A shadow darker than the night raced ahead of the light.  Three deep barks rolled downhill towards her.  The beam of the flashlight bobbed faster.  "Hey, you!"  The man's voice boomed out.  "Stop right there!"
Heart pounding, she spun the horse to the right and squeezed hard with her legs.  Black Wind leaped forward, racing around the far side of the barn. More angry shouts crashed from behind them. The dog bayed, a hound's call for the hunter.  Madeline leaned into Black Wind's neck.  "Hurry, girl!  Hurry!"
The dog's voice grew louder and louder.  She feared looking back, afraid she'd see the fanged monster leaping for Black Wind's flank.  A copse of young alder trees loomed just ahead. If they could make it into the trees....
Suddenly, they flew into the deeper shadows.  Black Wind swerved through nature's obstacle course, Madelaine flattened as close to the horse as she could get, hoping an unseen limb didn't sweep her from the racing horse's back. The dog's baying dropped further and further behind.  The man had long since given up shouting.  She wondered if he might saddle a horse and come after them.  No time to worry about that.
They were right up on the creek before she registered the half moon's silvery glint on the water rippling over the rocky bed.  She slowed Black Wind to a walk and the horse stepped willingly into the shallow waters.  Several hundred yards upstream, the creek elbowed into a sharp left bend.  A few feet further on Madelaine urged her up a steep, rocky embankment.  She hoped the night would blind any pursuers to whatever telltale signs they left. As they broke over the ridge, an open meadow lay before them.
Anxious to leave the slaughter man and his dog behind, she urged the filly into a canter.
Now if only Mrs. Hanson would hide them.  "She has to, Black Wind.  Her and Grandmother are friends.  She just has to help us."  Drenched in the moon's cold light, she shivered.  End of part 1

I am currently working on a blog in the great wide world.  My blog address out there is wingsfromwords.blogspot.com   I hope you will visit me there.  I will be posting excerpts from the meditation book I am working on, Gifts from the Fifth Decade, as well as some short stories occ0sionally.  If you would like to facebook me, I am at dasmassivkennels.  Hope to see you there. 

No small amount of who I am lies within who I was. 

Who I will become is entangled in who I am and who I was. 

Okay, folks, I have never blogged before.  What is a blog?  What do I post on it?