Sweet Juxtaposition

The clouds, dark with rain and covering the Wind River’s, had moved in swiftly from the west and were starting to sweep down the valley. As a tractor idled, the sound of an air hose rose above the din, dust was blown out of the baler before it was put away for the winter. The night before the moon had made its ascent into the heavens over the butte as a peculiar fiery red egg shape, waning a little more each evening as the fall equinox approached.

The day had been busy: a concerted effort to beat the weather which had not been kind. A late frost and a cool summer had delayed the growing season and an early frost and rain had made it nearly impossible to get into the fields to windrow. As soon as that task was accomplished, more rain; more waiting and praying. The second cutting was dearly needed. The summer had seemed to be a trial by fire with several accidents, challenge after challenge, but true to the universe’s grace; gifts of warm sunshine and strong willing hands had made it all come together.

My jeans were covered with sawdust, my hair smelled of chain saw exhaust, but the relief of having wood blocked was evident in my mind. It could snow and a warm fire could burn. A little girl with grass stains on her knees squatted, making mud pies for the dogs on the porch as they eagerly watched the process with curious eyes and wagging tongues. The quagmire was a curious mix of mud, sawdust and dried flowers laced with dog food. I couldn’t help but smile in contentment at the whole scene; one of ease and peace with a sprinkle of relief.

Glancing at my watch it was nearly 4 o’ clock: a good time for a little break. As I ground the coffee beans to a fine espresso powder, the prospect of the final product nearly made my mouth water: a perfect unexpected indulgence for everyone. Covered with dust, soot and sweat from the days work, a little shot would surely elicit a smile. As I watched the little silver pot percolate, I marveled at the contrast of the scene. The people: two men I admired -one I had grown up with, the other the love of my life- working on farm equipment, my little girl who was both my twin soul and greatest challenge, and me, full of generations of earthy ranch blood. We were stopping to take an espresso break in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. Without plausible thought, we seemed to pretend that the mix of freshly made bales strung over the field waiting to be picked up was a perfect compliment to an Italian espresso. Sweet juxtaposition.

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