Petroleum County Community Library

Petroleum County is March roaring in like a lion, lambing sheds full of bleating sheep, two-year-old heifers waiting impatiently in corrals unsure of the stirrings within them, and old cows seeking shelter in the willows.  It is soft spring winds with the smell of damp sage.  V's of honking geese, and meadowlarks who sing as though they alone discovered spring.  It is the taste of fresh rhubarb and new-grown asparagus. It is seeding and branding and watching the sky for June rains.  It is hope.

Petroleum County is cloudless broad skies and new-mown hay, and black rolling thunderclouds shaking fingers of lightning at those who dare to venture forth.  It is August and dry hot winds that wither the grass with dust devils teasing and skipping away.  It is fear--fear of prairie fires and drought and grasshoppers and debt.  It is utter discouragement.

Petroleum County is bountiful harvests and fat lambs and calves.  It is chokecherry syrup and bright orange pumpkins and huge harvest moons.  It is the first snowfall quietly covering the harshness of the landscape.  It is long evenings and howling coyotes and northern lights.  It is nights filled with millions of stars, and galaxies for those who search for them.   It is acceptance of life.

Petroleum County is wind and blizzards, and worry for man and beast alike.  It is the unmistakable blue of chinook clouds.  It is everything that is beautiful.

                                                                    Marjorie W. King