And so begins the long road to a South Dakota spring for area ranchers. Begrudgingly, we will forge necessary paths to feed piles and the livestock that consume it. Here comes the never-ending breakdowns due to cold, worn-out equipment and the evertaunting wind blowing powder-white snow into our faces, continuously filling in the strategically plowed paths that took hours, days, to create.
Some will mutter positive musings of needing the moisture while others know the “snow turns to water” equation never quite fills the rain quota our rolling prairie landscape requires. Each day becomes monotonous.
But every now and then, despite the unforgiving climate, the sun will peak through the snowy haze over the next few months reminding us it’s still there. The comforting warmth sheds light on neighborly gestures often expressed during this season that supposedly causes solitude. Those with equipment first set themselves free, but often quietly clear the landscape for those unable to emerge on their own. Stray livestock is cared for by calloused hands until their rightful owner is rounded up. Sidewalks and driveways mysteriously clear. A lineman powers through his duties with cold careful fingers, knowing his job will keep his community comfortable. Co-workers pick up a shift to save someone a dangerous trek to town. Imperfect people offer a humble place for travelers to rest.
It can be maddening when Mother Nature mixes up our moisture order and serves it at what’s perceived as the wrong time. But might our slow and steady path to better weather help us rejoice and enjoy when the fleeting sunshine appears? To find strength in seeing what we’ve plowed behind us?
Maybe the solitude lends us the opportunity to celebrate what this journey meant for a lost young couple seeking shelter long ago. As these bleak winter months seem to drag on, may they awaken our faith in our work, our neighbor and our purpose to continue on.
