Yurt

I’m lying in bed with the curtains open, watching the day break. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the dawn light is enough to fill the yurt. The black kitten, Millie, loves sitting on the big down filled cushion looking at the world outside the window. She’s not been allowed out there yet, too young to navigate the dangers and make her way back to safety when she needs. A whole different world a few millimetres away.

This morning she’s watching the soft snowfall. The quiet and calm that comes with effortless gentle snowfall fills the yurt. Vanillie, the other kitten, paws at something in the corner of the window. I can hear her soft fur against the glass. The window frames a small section of hillside that rises sharply up behind the sheep pen. Behind this hillside wild peaks roam and wild animals draw dotted criss-cross lines across the landscape, temporary prints to be eased with the next snow fall.

The guardian dogs that live with the sheep are quiet too this morning, no deer or coyotes around. The snippet of hillside captured by the window is a collage of snow, scrub, rocks and pine trees. The early morning light slants through the valley and across the hillside, the warmth of it dappling the snow gold. The shadows are as blue as the deep cold of the night.

I make breakfast on the wood burner. The water in the kettle pops as soon as I put it on the hot stove top. Porridge for breakfast again, quick oats but I let them slowly cook for 20 minutes on the fire, return to bed until the kettle sings.

Mornings are meant to be like this. As I’m writing both kittens come to join me. Millie has given up her spot in the window and it now lounged over my stomach, with my left arm over her I hold this diary and write as she purrs. Vanillie is curled up at my right side in that space between the pillow and the duvet where the bedsheet lies exposed and flat against the mattress. She’s such a beautiful cat with a coat half tabby, half tortoiseshell and the bright, wild face of a forest cat.

I need to get up and eat and get dressed for farm chores. The snow has stopped and the light is bright now. The golden dappling has gone, the hillside is now brilliant white.

I step out of the yurt in to the cold, crisp air and down the steps in to the snow.