I hiked up the hill to my favorite spot, overlooking the yard and neighboring fields. The large rock is warm even though it’s February. The pounding of hooves from my daughters horse, my sons laughter, and my husbands saw and music float up from the yard. Looking around I see rolling hills, brown fields, the old farm house slowly decaying, an endless sky. It’s the perfect place to sit and think, daydream.

Had we been in town I’d be on the computer, doing housework, or reading a book. The kids would be engaged with some electronic gadget. My husband at work or watching a movie. At the farm we spend time outside no matter the weather.

Sitting on the rock, the bare garden below transforms, colored with flowers from the growing plants. The empty panel running down the center of the garden in now filled with vines from cucumbers and snap peas. Empty cages sitting along the fence are now standing in a row supporting bushy tomato plants. I can see the rows of fern-like carrots and broad leaves of beet tops. Looking further east, beyond the yard, the empty hay fence becomes a budding orchard. The small trees planted among the rows of potatoes and corn. Raspberry plants and grape vines lining the back fence. In the coming years there will be apples, pears, crabapples, and plums. Further still, this time to the west, the dry grass blurs and changes. I can barely make out a patch of dark green among the purple sea of alfalfa. This dark spot is a tangle of vines belonging to pumpkins, gourds, melons and squash.

I blink and am again surrounded by brown in varying shades, the breeze slowly cooling as the sun sets. My daydream reminds me that winter’s slumber does not last forever and our environment is constantly changing to meet our dreams.

Awaking the next day, the sight from our cabin window is quite different. A light blanket of snow covers yesterdays muddy ground. Cold wind beats against the walls and the sky is gray. Chores will be done in layers of clothing and gloves. When yesterday all that was needed was a sweatshirt. The vision of green a bit harder to conjure.

Driving home is a slow change from dirt path to pavement. Large fenced pasture and open fields to rows of houses and fenced yards. From nature and freedom to civilization and dreams of freedom.