The Way of Things

Last night’s mesmerizing sunset brought a splashing of reds and pinks onto the bellies of scattering clouds stretched out in fan pattern from the west. Beneath that beauty, though, the cold rolled edge of a slate blue front laid a distinct boundary of something else. Before midnight, the rain came, and behind it, a bit of sleet and snow. Not quite enough to cover the driveway, but enough to know that this is January.

In the more than slight bite of this morning’s wind, I used a steel bar to break loose the frozen latch that holds the gate closed, so I could carry hay to the slatted rack for the horses. While they ate mixed beet pulp and sweet feed, I pitched the packed flakes of brome into the feeder.

Turning then to their water, I picked up the open end of the short hose, held it over the heated tub and tried to lift the handle of the hydrant. It, too, was frozen in place. A harder jerk managed to move it and water began to flow from the hose. After the tub was filled, I moved the handle back down into the "off" position, loosened the hose fitting enough to let air pull through and drained the hose. Otherwise, the least bit of water left in would freeze and block the hose.

It’s a certainty in this weather, no way around it. Water left out in this kind of cold will freeze. Which is similar to why righteous thinking is so important to righteous living; evil left in the heart eventually makes its way into the life.

H. Arnett



About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Blair, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-five years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-one grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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