I glanced at the clock on the dash of my pickup as I rolled through the four-way stop sign. The gentle green 7:08 a.m. glow painfully reminded me that I was once again several minutes late.

It may not be every morning, but on a semi-routine basis, my day begins with a little pep talk to myself. Some days it’s simply a little note to myself in my head that prods me to just stand up, walk out the door and start the morning chores. On other days, it’s more of a stern talking-to or even a desperate plea to my guardian angels.

A simple pivot check proves that even the best “labor‑saving miracles” come with mud, timing and a little chaos.

As far as winters are concerned, the past one was pretty easy on me. I started to get quite concerned in mid-January when I glanced up at the mountains to the east where my summer water supply is usually stored in the form of some stout drifts and snowpack on the peaks and in the draws and north facing hillsides.

Lately, a verse from the Old Testament has been circling in my head. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV).