Snow D(el)ays

Listening to the radio Wednesday-Friday was less music and more a litany of closures.  We ended up getting about 18", which is fabulous.  Weather service says we got just over 1" of moisture.  And since the ground wasn't frozen pre-fall, it's soaking in nicely.

Although waking up Friday morning to 4' was a bit of a shock.

Friday a.m. : 4'F and sparkly

We didn't bother trying to get anything cleared until Friday.  It didn't stop snowing and blowing until late Thursday night, and the county didn't get the road plowed until sometime Friday afternoon anyway.  Thursday afternoon the snow was knee deep for a 1/4 mile in both directions.  Although once you got to the top of the hill in the wind, it was probably only 8 or 9". 

I know this because T called the cow neighbors and the horse neighbors Wednesday night to let them know that a) we'd water the cows, and b) if the road was impassible, we'd walk up and check on the horses and make sure they had water.  The cows were no big deal, but the horses required a 3/4 mile slog up the hill.

Knee-deep, but oh so pretty

Snowshoes would have been helpful.  But we made it and got the ice busted in the tank.  They have a round bale, so other than that they were good.  The gray mare was uninterested in visiting, but the sorrel gelding would have happily had us stay and scritch indefinitely.

They could hardly contain their excitement - lol!

By the time we got back the wind had switched and the flakes were getting bigger.  The horses were bouncing around, kicking up big puffs of it.

Snow ponies

Cat 1 attempted to venture out of the granary for his evening visit while I hayed the horses, took one leap, and sunk up to his ears.

See the ears? Not a happy cat.

He was very quick to return to shallower ground inside, and spent the next 15 minutes complaining at me from there.

Clearing the driveway Friday morning was entertaining from a spectator's standpoint.  Not so much - or at least less frequently - from T's.  I shoveled the front while T did battle with the driveway drifts in the bobcat.  The temps and the consistency of the snow made it really slick.  That blue cast to things is probably not entirely from the snow... I sweated more, but he did more cussing.  Never a good sign when I can hear him although way up the hill over the engine! 

At one point I thought he was going to take out either the fence or clip a power pole, but he's handier than I am, and all and sundry made it through unscathed.  Midway through, the cow neighbors appeared with their bobcat/blade and between them they got things cleaned up double time. 

Saturday warmed up considerably.  I did outside stuff to the tune of dripping and snow sliding and thumping off of tin roofs.

Snow calving off the granary roof

And I took my turn in the bobcat, cleaning out the turnaround at the mailbox.  At 32', the snow was getting heavy and wet, and the tires had a lot more traction.   I was very pleased not to be dealing with the slide factor!

They're predicting we might get another 8-12" over the next two days.  Woo-hoo!   

I don't think he wanted his picture taken...

Cold Mornings

The indoor cats' days start early.  Their mental alarm starts going off about 4:30 if not earlier.  Mabel bounces around at our feet for a while before moving up to tromp solidly across our heads.  No snooze alarm on her, but if she doesn't get any response she might settle for 5 minutes or so on a shoulder before resuming her march.  

Nu-Nu's approach is more subtle.  She parks herself on the door side of the bed next to T and stares fixedly at him.  The slightest twitch of a hand or a brow spurs a plaintive meow.  "I'm starving to death here."

Snowball doesn't bother with harassment.  She lurks on top of the living room chair closest to the food dishes, soundless, a nearly invisible darker spot in the dark room.  She's going to get there first, you see. 

Once feet finally hit the floor around five, the path to the kitchen is littered with swiftly moving anxious bodies.  Far more than two, or even three, but that's probably just morning vision. And heaven help the human that hits the bathroom first - pit stops and extraneous stuff like teeth brushing are NOT approved activities and should take second seat to cat necessities.

Thankfully, peace descends once the rattle and crunch has started.  Who ever is first out of the bathroom has coffee chuckling to itself and cups out for a much needed hit of caffeine.  It's still dark and not much later when T leaves.  By this point the cats have retired to decorate chair backs, the bed or sprawl in front of the stove like furry rugs.  I settle to enjoy the last of my coffee, pay bills, catch up email, on FB and blog posts, or Google whatever random oddities came up on morning conversation.  Non-spinning dryers, mower cables, vintage Western Flyer scooter frames, and window clings this morning. 

I have about an hour before I need to start layering on socks and woolie underthings.  We don't have a light on the barn yet, so I wait until the sun's started to come up before outside chores commence.  Then it's knee socks and jeans and stamping feet into boots cool from a night in the entryway.  Neck gaiter, earband, etc., and a lot of thankfulness that I'm not wriggling my way into coveralls to head out into -'s Fahrenheit.
 

The front screen door squeaks and bangs, and Sunny hollers at me as soon as he hears it.  He's as impatient as the indoor cats.  And I'm sure he'd happily tromp across the bed too, if it meant he'd get faster service.  The outdoor cats get fed first, though.  I pry the cold bungee strap securing the bin off and dip out a bowl full of food for Cat 2 and 3.  They've commandeered the garage, and most mornings are waiting a whatever their idea of a safe distance has fluctuated to.  They won't come close enough to eat until I've walked off, but they're getting bolder.

Today I fumble with refilling the coffee can of kibble to carry down for Cat 1 in the granary before I close the bin back up.  Then I head on down the hill to Sunny's impatient encouragement.  Getting the granary door to slide back on its track is a job for both hands.  I cram the can under one arm and drag it back ignoring protesting shrieks.  Cat 1 pops out of his box and hops down to strop himself madly around my ankles.  He's stopped yelling excitedly at me every morning, but he bumps his head and sides against my gloved hands as I bend over to shake cat food into his dish.  Regular feedings mean he's not as desperately hungry as he was, but he'll still linger at his dish for a few minutes, making walking to the corral a safer proposition for both of us.

The Rubbermaid garbage can that serves as my rodent-proof (and cat-protected) feed bin has another tarp strap for me to deal with, reluctant to give up its cold-tightened grip, but eventually I manage to get enough slack to unhook it.  I scoop out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 full 2-cup measures of grain.  T picked up an oat/ground corn mix at the Co-op.  It's chaffier than I'd like, but the horses scarf it down enthusiastically.

Amyra waits in the corral, and the boys are lined up along the section of fence in the much-abbreviated orchard pasture.  They're all whickering at me now and I scan for any nighttime damage as I head in their direction.  Experience proves it's best if Sunny gets his grain first, and once I'm moving toward the corral he leads the other three around the barn to meet me at his spot.  Nose almost but not quite bumping my shoulder, he waits while I dip his portion out.  Amyra and Thunder know better than to push up to try to share.  He knows better than to threaten them with more than laid back ears and cranky face while I'm standing there, but that's enough to keep them waiting at a respectful distance.

Amyra gets her share next, near the hay feeder.  She'll share, usually, with Thunder for the first few bites, so leaving the two of them taking turns at her spot, I head for the backside of the barn and what has become Rufus's.  He backs and fills in front of me - his pan tends to get moved around more than the others and needs to be flipped upright more often than not.  I dip his grain out, making sure he gets a well-rounded scoop and a bit more.  I rub his neck for a few seconds, then head back to dump Thunder's allotment out.  By this point he's generally heading for his place, content with having snagged a few mouthfuls of Amyra's portion.

I still have some grain though, so I divide what's left hitting Sunny's spot first, then Amyra, and finally tipping the last out for Thunder, scanning the barn interior on my way past to see if they've used it overnight.  They munch while I slip out the gate.  Once Sunny's done, he'll circle around, moving Amyra and Thunder to make sure he's not missing anything, before heading around the barn to move Rufus and clean up any crumbs there.

By this point, I've started the morning wrestle with the round bale.  Parked on end, the hay just peels off in great sheefs; this one got dropped on its side and it's not nearly as cooperative.  But it is good exercise.  I alternately pry and pitch forkfuls of hay until the big feed bunk is full and drop a couple across the fence behind the barn, too - Sunny, Amyra and Thunder will share at the bunk, but Rufus is persona non grata when the three of them are eating together, so I tip a couple forkfuls off for him either inside, behind, or next to the barn as well, depending on wind direction.

Cat 1 has polished off enough crunchy bits to come out to join me.  It makes walking a challenge, but burdened with the hay-loaded fork, he just has to watch out for me.  He's learning.  I haven't squashed him thus far.

Once hay distribution is complete, I collect the grain lid and scoop and head back into the granary to snap the lid on and re-secure the strap.  Cat 1 hunkers down over his dish again, polishing off the remainder of his breakfast.  It's too cold yet to top off the water tank - the hydrant prefers afternoons - and my fingers are numb from the chill of the pitchfork handle seeping through my gloves.  The barn cleaning, assuming it's necessary, will wait until later as well.  For now, it's time to head back inside for more coffee and some much needed Kleenex.   

We're melting! We're melting!

T requested Ginger-people bars - post-holidays the gingerbread flavored marshmallows were on sale for $.75/bag, so I picked up a bunch.  

Every time I make them the witch's plaint from the Wizard of Oz runs through my head.  "I'm meeeellltting....".

It really is melting here... mornings are crunchy, but my midday the snow has that slippery, wet feeling to it and the driveway is sloppy.

They're predicting a chance of rain for Thursday, and then it's back into the depths of winter for the weekend.  I hope we get more snow!


Yesterday I worked on the chicken house, restacking all of the wood that's been stored inside it outside, raking out packrat nests and moving all the other odds and ends that have accumulated.  It finally got too dusty to breathe, so I moved down to the barn and worked on that.

Down there, I acquired an audience.

What'cha doin?

For now I'm hauling the manure over to dump next to the granary in what will, if all goes as planned, be tilled for a melon/squash patch next spring.
 

Cat 1 came to see what I was up to via the barn window.  He tried sitting by the muck bucket, but after a couple of frozen horse apples bounced off his head, he moved over into a spot of sunshine by the door and gave himself a bath. 

Thunder came in to see what I was doing, checked out the bucket to be absolutely certain nothing inside was edible, poked the cat to make sure he wasn't hiding anything tasty, then migrated back around the barn to watch me through the window.

You work, I'll watch

Next trip to Orschlens, I'm getting a wheelbarrow!
 
T and I checked out the loft over the weekend.  It's not as full as he remembered, thank goodness! There's some old alfalfa, and some straw bales along the back side and one wall, and someone stored a bunch of windows along the other wall, but a large portion of the floor is clear.  It's really dusty. 

We'll back a truck in below the loft door and shove the bales out, and I think we can use them for mulch.  The windows... not sure if we can use them to make hot boxes for the garden, or if we'll end up just hauling them to the dump.  Anybody have any nifty ideas for old screens?

Also up there, hanging from the rafters, two complete sets of harness.  I think it's too old and cracked to be saved, unfortunately.  But I'm going to see what I can salvage.

Remnants of the old days

Since the horses have been using the barn to loaf in, today's project is getting the mangers cleaned out.  That way, if it's really nasty I can feed them inside, not on the floor.  And there's more cleaning to be done in the chicken house.

A bunch of cows were shoving one another around their water tank when I finished up in the barn, and when I checked sure enough, the tank was empty.  The guys have only been filling it in the morning so that it doesn't freeze solid at night - no heater, so it saves them from having to break ice all the time.  There's another big tank clear on the other side of the pasture, so some days the cows don't come in to this one at all.

I turned the water on for them and Cat 1 and I hung out on top of the well house cover in the sunshine while they drank. 

Pet me!  Pet me, pet me, pet me!

Definitely not a bad way to spend an afternoon!

It's raining...

Actually, it's pouring, and it's (still) February!  If only barely.

I hate this kind of weather when it's just warm enough to rain but cold enough that it really should be snowing.  Every other kind of weather - well, excepting hail - I don't worry about the boys not having a roof to get under.  They have access to good shade, windbreaks no matter which direction the wind blows, and sunny spots to loaf in.  They have thick, fuzzy coats to protect them from dry cold (and almost all snow counts as "dry").

But when it's raining at 34' like it is today... I'd love to have a nice snug barn to tuck them into.  Or somewhere free enough of potential blanket snaggers that I could at least put turnouts on them.

When I checked on them this morning they were snoozing in the upper lot letting the bulk of the house and the thick coniferous wind break shelter them from all but occasional stray gusts.  It wasn't raining yet, and they were all fluffed out and pleased with themselves. 

I'm crossing my fingers that a) someone up there turns the faucet off, or b) the atmosphere cools off enough to snow.   Weather channel says snow, sleet or freezing rain through 8 PM with wind from 15-20 mph.  BLEH!!!

Farm watch weekend

On the good news end of things at the farm, the tractor was back up and running last Tuesday, which meant no more hauling small bales and that G's cows could move back out where they belong, ending the livestock juggling act he'd been doing to make sure everything had access to feed and water. The ponies are very content with their new bale.

We fed critters for friends this weekend. Cows, horses, dog, cats. It's a much more pleasant task in the summer, although I don't mind doing it at any season.

But winter means bale-moving. And Friday night dealing with the often tractor turned what should have taken 45 minutes into a three hour marathon.

The entertainment started Friday a.m. at O-dark:thirty when, after we finally got it to crank, the power steering was frozen up. Since we needed it to actually TURN, that didn't bode well. At well below zero and still dark, I lobbied for trying again in the afternoon - the cows were okay, plenty of water and enough bale remains to scavenge for the day. And the weatherman said it we were going to have a heatwave - relatively speaking - nearly 20'.

At 4 p.m. and 17', the power-steering was cooperative, but it was too soon to celebrate. Unfortunately, the hydraulics weren't. No three-bar lift, no claw. Nothing doing. We let it run to see if maybe warming it up would help. Finally, after two hours in the cold monkeying with one thing after another - we could hear the pump trying - it finally whined slowly into action. Sluggish, but a start - the diagnosis? Low on hydraulic fluid, although it wasn't showing as low. Probably some water in the lines somewhere, but at least it was working.

Of course, by that time it was dark. The tractor doesn't have lights, and the bales are 1/2 mile down the road aligned along the fence in the hay field. The drive to which is completely drifted in.

I gave T my headlamp and waited by the cattle pasture gate with the big Maglite stuck in my sleeve and my hands buried under my arms, hopping up and down periodically to keep warm. At least the moon was nice and bright.

Looking down the hill I could see the shadow of the tractor, tiny light atop it blinking in and out of view as T checked for tracks to follow. Turning off the road... coming to a sudden stop, engine revving, and then a lovely streamer of sparks heading skyward. Ummm... bad word, bad word, did the engine just blow? No, I can still hear it running, say a prayer or two and cross my fingers, hop up and down some more... Hooray! It seems to be moving again.... Half an hour later he chugged back up the hill with a bale on both ends, trailed by a line of cows along the fence. The ladies were hungry!

They barely let us get a bale dropped and the strings cut before they were attacking it.

The horses were just as eager to dig into their new bale the next morning.

It being daylight (and slightly warmer), it was a lot easier to navigate.

Thing update

Two new batteries and the big truck fired right up. The diagnosis on the Blazer? They couldn't find anything wrong, but they cleaned a bunch of sensors, filters and the fuel lines. They couldn't get it to die, or to pull up any error codes. Rather than start replacing things it might be, they said drive it and see if there's still a problem. I do like mechanics that don't find "problems" every time you get the oil changed or hear a random noise. (Although T says they just like me because I hear a lot of random noise. I told him he's right - in more ways than one - LOL!)

The tractor was still down yesterday, but at least small squares are easy to haul.

The cows will need new bales pretty soon, too, though, so hopefully G will get it up and running today.

Threes

Events happen in threes, right? So depending on how it's counted, we're either one above or two below the pattern at the moment.

Thing #1: The big truck died on Wednesday night - finger's crossed it just needs new batteries, but jumping didn't get it started, we'll get them swapped this afternoon.

Thing #2: T's been sick all week with some sort of stomach bug that started last weekend (which is why the truck is still sitting at work, since I didn't get home until last night). Doc couldn't see him yesterday, so he ended up in the emergency room where they kept him for four hours, x-rays and blood, then sent him home with the (at least positive) news that he probably has a stomach virus, to avoid dairy until he feels better, and to keep doing whatever else he's been doing. It should go away eventually.

Thing #3: The tractor at the farm died. Possibly the battery, maybe the fuel gelled. No word on that yet - I headed directly there last night to feed since T was still being held hostage by the ER folks. The horses should be getting a new bale today, but I'm guessing that's not in the cards. Thankfully the big rounds are easily accessible, only about 30 feet away - not 1/2 mile away beyond a tree grove this year - so I can either fork hay over from the closest round bale or feed the "emergency" small squares we put up this fall (in case the tractor died).

Thing #4: The blazer is also in the shop - it's been dying at idle when warm. Idle sensor, fuel pump going, a tank of bad gas, or something else entirely - I know which one I'm hoping it is! I want it off my thing list!

I dropped T off at work in his old Ranger - which kept wanting to die on me and there was this slightly scorched smell when I got home... thing #5? Nah, I'm not going to count that - I know the Ranger's seen better years. Sigh....

On the counting blessings side, the horses were fat and fluffy and in high spirits last night, the cats are fine, I haven't managed to come down with whatever bug T's fighting off. I guess in the grand scheme of things, since T's on the mend the rest count as minor nuisances. Still, I'm crossing my fingers - once I'm done typing - that we're done with "things" for a while!

Still winter and counting

Every winter about this time, I'm ready for mud season.

The roads are starting to look like this.

The ponies are back to wearing white overcoats.

And I'm ready for spring.

It's not that I'm complaining, really. At this point, 20's are feeling downright warm when the wind dies. If I don't catch T's flu I'm going to try riding on Friday - lucky me, the forecast says it will be 24' and sunny.

- The high for the week, imagine that. - LOL!

Saturday's forecast says 17' and snow, and Sunday it's back into the depths with a high of 8'.

Sunday I'm joining Mabel.

I'm now going to go catch up on my reading...
Hooray for vicarious thrills
from parts warmer
and/or bloggers hardier than I!

Safety first

Reading everyone's blog entries about riding has me feeling both jealous and guilty. Jealous because I can't wait for spring, guilty because I know even then I probably won't be riding as much as I should. Count me in on the whole "Shut up and ride" movement! (I really need that mug-lol)

But I'm consoling myself with the fact that even in the winter there's plenty to address on the learning and safe behavior front.

Mrs. Mom just posted on why
proper hoof-handling is critical
and how she prefers it to be taught,
- definitely worth reading.

I've been thinking about what and how I do things for a while now, and it seems to me that feeding time is another opportunity for reinforcing groundwork on plenty of levels.

Case in point: we move hay to the horses every day. They're loose. There are eight of them, and sometimes we feed in the dark with head lamps. Eight horses, darkness, slippery snow and a pitchfork could be very nasty very quickly.

Just as a basic rule,
horses need to respect people-space
even in the presence
of something desirable
like hay or (even more yummy) grain.

And for the most part the herd was pretty good about respecting us already. The real kicker - sometimes literally - was horse on horse action, not so much horse on human action. The first winter we fed daily (in previous years they had a round bale feeder, 24/7 access to hay and they did their own sorting out of who ate where) it took a number of days to reinforce the "thou shalt nots" of feeding time.

These are the rules:

• You will not run me (or anyone else) over when I'm moving hay.
• You will not run someone else over me when I'm moving hay.
• You will shift over if I need you to, even if there are four of you in my way.
• You all look horse-shaped in the dark, therefore you can all stand still while I use your shoulder, neck, butt as a prop to climb in and out of the feeder, (whether or not I'm balancing a pitchfork and wearing a headlamp) regardless of whether you've ever been ridden. In return I will try not to poke you with the pitchfork or shine the light in your eyes or fall down underneath you (but I can't promise anything).
  

How did we manage? Well, first of all, these particular eight horses are all relatively mature, have an established pecking order, and as I already said, on the whole they're pretty respectful of human space. All of those are important points, and if any of them weren't the case I 'd probably do things a bit differently at least to start with.

Some rules came with time - the headlamps, for example, we didn't end up introducing until the feeding routine was already well-established. The days simply got shorter and carrying a flashlight wasn't really workable. Had we shown up the first night in the dark and started roaming around with headlamps - even bearing food, they probably would have freaked. As it was, one night the feeders just showed up with lights on their heads. And it was no big deal.

The thou-shalt-not run over me or run anyone else over me rules took longer, and they still need reinforcing on occasion. I reinforce the same way I established them: when somebody forgets and needs a reminder that nastiness with people underfoot is not tolerated (usually Sunny or one of the middle mares), the reminder consists of me moving them.

I'm not loud, dramatic, angry-sounding or violent about it. I just emphasize what they elected to forget - that I, as the human, get to determine what space they get to occupy.

Here's how.

I stop what I'm doing, single that horse - let's call him Sunny - out and make him move for a minute or so. I don't run. I stay on the inside of the loose "circle" the herd forms around the feeders and insist Sunny stay outside it. He doesn't get to stop and eat, he doesn't get to hide among the other horses. He gets to travel, generally at a trot, but a good brisk walk is acceptable. I don't run or yell, I don't try to direct where he goes, I just keep him from stopping.

What are the rest of the horses doing?
Usually, ignoring the byplay completely.

After a minute or two depending - if he still has his ears cocked back and a snarky expression (that would mainly be Star) he gets to keep going - when he pauses and faces me, I'll stop too. If he stands, I'll walk up to his shoulder. If he moves off again as I walk up or makes nasty faces (Star), I go right back to keeping him moving. If he stands, I'll rub his withers and then walk away to whatever I was doing before. Initially it might take a couple of times a night, sometimes with the same horse, sometimes with several of them. As time went on I needed to remind them less and less and I was also using less pressure to send them off.

Now that the behavior pattern for feeding time is set, if they're all really antsy I can assume one of two things: either the weather is changing (easy enough to determine), or that I need to feed a bit heavier because they're hungrier than I'd like them to be.

It isn't a hard and fast cure-all: they still have preferred eating arrangements, favorite spots, and lunch buddies. Ears still get laid back and the occasional foot gets cocked when someone lower on the pecking order sticks their nose in where it's not welcome. And Sunny still migrates from feeder to feeder to see which one is best situated, out of the wind, or tastiest on any given day, moving the other horses as he does it because he is the "boss"(iest) horse.

But he (mostly) doesn't do it when I'm nearby.

As an overall strategy initially, the move-their-feet worked best with the horses that had some experience either on a longe line or in a round pen - they already knew how to move away from pressure. Those horses moved off more easily and faced up more readily. But regardless of past experience, they all learned. And I think if/when we get the others started with formal groundwork it will help us out there, too.

I don't presume to be a trainer or an expert horse-anything - this is simply what works for me with these eight horses. Reading Mrs. Mom's post I found plenty of food for thought, and not just on hoof handling. I'd love to hear other strategies for feeding groups - do you tie? Separate to feed? What's worked for you (or not) and why?

Happy Valentine's Day

Guess what we got? More snow and lots of wind...
The howling outside had the cats freaking out. But at least there was some sun, and with enough layers it even felt sort of warm. Or at least not too terrible if you could manage to stay out of the wind.

When we got to the farm the driveway was drifted in badly enough that even 4-wheel wasn't going to get us up the driveway. We hiked up. I headed out to hay the horses. G was hooking up the trailer to deliver a load of sheep, so T hopped in the tractor to get the drive cleared.

Which, of course, had to be just a tiny bit exciting.See the trailer? It was sitting half into the ditch. The driveway's glassy-ice under the snow. G turned and the trailer just started sliding. The pick-up's white, so you can't really see it, but I think it may have a new dent or two from the mailbox.

The horses found the un-sticking process must-see TV. Me? I stayed busy with the hay. It was much more entertaining from a distance - LOL! They eventually unhitched the truck and used the tractor to push the trailer back on to the road, and G headed out. I fussed with the horses and played with the dog while T finished cleaning up the driveway.

My camera has decided to do weird things in the cold. See the lower right edge of the middle picture up above where it looks sort of spliced? Well I didn't Photoshop it - and I also ended up with this one. Both of them look perfect in the previews, but when I open them...
Not sure what's up with that. Hopefully something a change of batteries and/or a new disc will fix.

Faces of Winter

Last week...

Today...

That roaring noise? That's the wind.

And finally,
just because this one reminds me of Yoda...

And this one reminds me of somebody...

I just can't think of who.

Hooray for January thaws!

I fed this afternoon without my down vest, wearing one pair of leather gloves and with no long underwear on - just jeans, sweatshirt, scarf & my winter coat. No hat, either. It was actually in the low 30's. A heat wave :)

The mystery of the down fence was solved - G tapped it with the tractor when he was putting a bale out Thursday night. At nearly -20, it didn't take much to have things going "ping" and not in a good way. The ponies just took advantage of the opportunity.

They weathered the sub-zero temps with no apparent ill effects. They're really woolly this year, for which I'm profoundly grateful. But they seemed pleased to have it be warmer, too.

Yesterday we did a better patch job on the fence and broke a trail through the drifts out to the north pasture for them. As of today, none of them had used the path, but the deer have been, so the horses probably will before too long.

The weather forecast for this week is great - 30's and partly cloudy. Can't beat that this time of year, not in this neck of the woods!

Snow

Growing up in Upper Michigan, snow was not a stranger. We had drifts upon drifts. My dad would get up at 0'dark thirty to push snow for several hours before heading off to work, and do the same thing when he got home. We played on snow banks most years from late September until April. But, sheltered by trees and hills, the snow usually came drifting down fairly gently.

Oh sure, we had the usual blizzard and lake effect nastiness you get being near the big lakes. Winds off Superior were bitter, and winds off lake Michigan could chill you to the bone. But there was shelter to be had from the thick forest that covers much of the U.P., and in general stretches below 0' didn't last too very long without breaking.

Winter on the plains is different.

For one thing, the lack of trees makes the wind a LOT more deadly. Fluffy snow turns to ground blizzards or packs into solid, cow-weight bearing drifts, snow creepers wiggle their way out into deceptively deep road blocks to trap cars and block barn/house doors. And the windchill will just plain freeze you.

It's gorgeous, though.

Driving home yesterday - I left early so that I'd be traveling in the "heat" of the day (the temp reached a whopping -11 very briefly after our low of -24) and reached home with the sun still glowing off the wind-polished snow crust. The few minutes more sunshine per day we're accumulating is already making a noticeable difference - one nice thing about the plains: trees don't create an artificially early sunset.

Rather than un-bundle, I collected T and we headed out to do the horses while there was still daylight. Good thing, too. As we bumped down the rutted hill coming up to the farm from the south mile road I could see dark spots against the snow where dark spots had no business being.

Fences that look plenty tall with no snow on the ground appear deceptively low with 3' drifts against them. When the drifts are packed solid, they pretty much are that short. And metal stuff gets brittle when the temps get that low.

Thankfully, a good bale usually keeps the critters where they belong, but not always. Livestock drifts a fair amount every winter, moving away from the wind just like the snow. Sometimes it's the combined weight of the packed herd pushing a weak spot in the fence down. Sometimes they just walk out over it across the snow pack.

Our three escapees had done a combination of the two.

Sunny, Thunder & Pennie were out on a polished spot in the front field pawing through the snow crust to get to frozen pasture grass. They came running when they saw me, demonstrating exactly how and where they'd popped out in the first place, but proceeded to dive right back out again before I could get the hole blocked. Of course, rest of the bunch - the bale had been holding their attention just fine until then - wanted to go with them. Thankfully, with T to block the hole and run interference it was a matter of minutes to get them back in, although I found a few thigh-deep spots to fall into.

At least the effort of staying upright meant I was warm.

We spread hay to keep them busy and then patched the fence and tied some plastic flags to the spot before we lost the light. We'll need to do a better job today, but it will hold them for tonight.

Pictures will have to wait
until it's warm enough
for the camera batteries to function.
It's cold out there.

Christmas gifts

We took the tree down yesterday - the living room seemed strangely large and rather dark without its glow. The presents are, for the most part, stored away or taken home, with the exception of a few left to be exchanged.

The first loaf of bread from the new breadmaker
(It survived its picture by not very long)

The giant rat with catnip insert...

After being briefly baffled,

Snowball and Mabel

found it fascinating.

There's the snow, of course - it's a Christmas gift of a sort, right?

I'm 5'10" - the road drift the plows cleared
is at least a foot above my head.
Spring should be very green - after it all finally melts...

Rufus
and company
are cruising through winter, cold as it is.

Last evening while we were checking on Rufus
a train (110 cars) went by

it made a great excuse
for a bit of leaping and bucking.

And Star continues her daily yoga.
I really should join her!

We're on the lightening side of the darkest season of the year, and I can't help but be grateful. I'm ready for brighter evenings, warmer days, and less white stuff, pretty as it is.

We had three more inches last night - but the sun's out this morning, and it's supposed to get all the way up to 7' today. Winter warmth!