Blizzard, Nor'easter, bomb cyclone...

 Three weather events rolled into one came to visit yesterday. Due to modern forecasting ability, we were well-warned. Customers started calling on Tuesday to cancel their Saturday appointments. We were as ready as could be. The chicken coops were clean, the goats had thick bedding to hunker down in, and their coats firmly snapped up. We had fuel for our generator, the wood crib was stacked to the top, and Chris did the grocery shopping a day early, so we had plenty of food. 

The snow had just begun to fall in small flakes when I did morning chores. The ducks happily came out to have a splash and a snack. The chickens took one look at the white falling from the sky and stayed in the coop. I gave them extra grub and water. The cats had breakfast then headed out into the snow. They didn't stay long. As the storm grew, they headed back inside. The wind picked up, and tiny flakes swirled. Looking out the window the world was white. 

 I usually turn the furnace down to 55 at night and up to about 65 in the morning. With the woodstove going, the house normally warms up very quickly. With wild gusts and temperatures in the single digits, the house never got warmer than 60 degrees. We donned layers and snuggled in for a quiet morning. Well, as quiet as could be with howling sound the wind made as it swirled under the eves and rattled the windows. We knew the power could go out at any moment and were amazed it never did. 

We tried to go out and blow and shovel snow to get a head start on it, but the wind made our efforts futile. In the early afternoon, I went out to check on the birds. The ducks had given up on their frozen pool and were in the coop. I locked everyone up early. I took extra hay out to the goats, they were glad to see me. We took a nap, snuggled under the feather duvet, bathed in the odd storm light, and listening to the wild voice of the wind. 

This morning Chris fired up the snowblower to clear the driveway. I shoveled the decks, the steps, and a path to the chicken coop. I carried out food and water, then got ready to take care of the goats. The wind had drifted the snow from the house to the pasture hip-high. Chris brought the snowblower and made me a long path right to the goat's door. 

Although there is a big, heated water tub not far from the goat's house, the snow was drifted so deep they didn't make the trek. This is the first year they have not had a horse or donkey to blaze paths for them. This morning I carried a bucket of warm water out to them and they were happy to see it. 

It took a few hours, shoveling, snow blowing, shoveling some more. Chris had "beard cycles," ice crusting his face. We thawed out by the fire a while and refueled with coffee and hot homemade soup. Chris made funny faces to make me laugh. 

The day was sunny but cold, the snow sparkling like a billion diamonds. 

A vintage water can dropped off by a friend hinted of warmer times to come. Inside, a vase of tulips did the same. 

We had a quiet day after the blow. As the sun sank into the west the house cast a long shadow on the new snow. 

We survived the blizzard, Nor'easter, bomb cyclone with grace. And this old house merely sighed, it has weathered worse. 

Fond farewell...

 In 2003 Chris and I packed up our every worldly possession moved from Memphis to Maine. I felt fortunate to have secured a grooming job at a beautiful place called Yankee Clipper. I spent a happy 13 years there. We did some good work during that time and shared some epic laughs. The kind of laughs where those that wear eyeglasses take them off, tears flow, breath comes in ragged gasps, and everyone involved hopes there is no danger of needing fresh undies. Many of the funniest times came as we gathered over lunch each day. 

Liz, who owned Yankee Clipper, soon became a wonderful friend, as did Holly, who had worked with Liz for years, and Megan, whose first job at the tender age of 15 was there washing dogs. For the first week or two that I was there, we were all on our best behavior until one day, I dropped a colorful cuss word, and the rest of the gang heaved a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed. It all got more playful from there. 

As it happens, life changes and people move on to other ventures. A significant source of laughter was gone from my life. 

Liz will leave Maine in a few weeks and move on to her next chapter. So today, she, Holly, Megan, and I met for one last lunch. I was not disappointed; guffaws were heard at our table. It was nice to have the gang together again. 

There was a time when I didn't fret about saying goodbye to people. I was younger and thought I'd see them again. There was plenty of occasion! Age has taught me otherwise. I hugged a little tighter today as we ended our lunch. 

I hope I never forget the laughter shared. Some of the funniest times of my life were spent with this fantastic group of women. Each of them has blessed my life. I'll never forget that. 

Ice...

 Yesterday freezing rain and sleet and all manner of cold wetness fell from the sky. It flung itself against the windows in loud waves. Today the sun is bright, but there is a bitter wind, and the temperatures are slated to plummet into the sub-zero range tonight and tomorrow. This means it will be extra crucial for the animals to have clean, dry bedding. 

The chickens were unhappy to see me and my shovel enter their coop. I tossed the old bedding out on the snow and ice, and they, under squawking protest, hustled outside to huddle and pout while I worked. A fresh bale of pine shavings was soon spread, and a flake of straw tossed on top for the birds to scratch around in. I had their vent window open while I worked, and the wind was whipping in through it in a most unpleasant manner. I made sure to shut and latch it when I was done, brrr! 

Next up was the goat cozy. It wasn't terribly messy, but I decided to clean it because I needed the old shavings to create paths on the ice. I was having trouble getting around even with aggressive ice grips on my boots. The goats were walking with mincing steps and sliding about on the sheets of slick that covered the ground. 

This shows the skating rink they have to traverse to their big, heated water bucket. I'm not sure if they are making the trek there or not, so I brought out some warm water with a bit of electrolyte powder in it to entice them to drink. Spirit got right on board, slurping down the goat version of Kool-Aid with gusto. 

Bliss had to think about it but finally joined in. It makes me feel better to know they are hydrated well. 

I laid a trail of old bedding from their house to the hay rack. 

They immediately took advantage of the more secure footing, even doing a little happy dance and buck routine as they realized they could move about more safely. 

I piled their clean shavings on the end of the house they like to lie on most and added straw there and to their pools.  Their coats are on, and hopefully, they will be as comfortable as they can be during this cold spell.

 

A peek at the goat cam showed me that the ladies (and one brave hen that traversed the pasture to join them) were enjoying the fruits of my labor with a nap in their clean house. 

Staying warm and not slipping on ice is the order of the day for all of us here at FairWinds. 

Special...

 Rachel and Evans did something extra special. They took us to an exclusive restaurant as part of our Christmas gift. "Your parents don't need any things," Evans told Rachel. "Let's have a shared experience." They made a reservation for all of us at Primo restaurant in Rockland.  We happily anticipated the outing for two weeks and will fondly remember the evening for years to come. 

Last night was chilly and snow-frosted. The grounds of Primo twinkled and glittered. 

Inside was warm and festive. Vintage china and sparkling crystal made the table bright. Evans chose a lovely bottle of wine for us to share. I tried Oysters Rockefeller for the first time. Delicious! 

We chatted happily and listened to the pleasant hum of other patrons enjoying a unique evening, too. The service was fabulous and friendly. Each course more delicious than the last. 

My sister Deb spent a few days visiting and helping with the Owlet during Rachel's first week back at work. She kindly stayed home with her so we could have an evening uninterrupted by any potential infant fussiness. This was another gift!  

We came home satiated and warmed by the experience. The Owlet was sleeping peacefully. It was a most memorable evening. 

Cold snap...

 The weather tonight is forecasted to be in the single digits. The livestock needed extra care to help them stay warm. I took fresh water to the chickens this morning, mid-day, and just before they went to roost in the evening. Their food container was full, and I gave them some black oil sunflower seeds, and corn to have whole grains to digest slowly and help fuel their inner furnaces. 

I was most worried about the goats. They have warm, padded jackets to wear but have gained some weight since I bought them. I was worried they would not fit. I got them out of storage today, and to my delight, they still buckled around their round bellies. 

Though their house has rubber matting for floors and clean pine shavings, straw is a better insulator in cold weather. The problem is that the goats spread it around until it is just a thin layer, and it mats down, making it difficult to clean up. 

I came up with a crazy idea. I put a kiddie pool full of straw in a part of their cozy a few weeks ago to see what they thought. They thought it was just dandy. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite big enough for the two of them to get in simultaneously.  Local stores are not exactly teeming with pools this time of year, but a sweet friend loaned me one she had in storage. So today, I set it up, getting two hooves up from the ladies. 

All the critters are snug in their homes, with plenty of food, water, and dry bedding. And kiddie pools. I hope they help. 

New...

The last few months have kept us a bit busier than usual. We helped Rachel and Evans move into a new home, took a magnificent vacation, celebrated a wedding, welcomed the Owlet to the world, and honored the holidays. We kept up our regular work schedules through it all (maybe plus some!), kept the home fires burning, and took care of all the animals here on the farmlette. We have hosted meals and parties, kept the guest room at the ready, and made memories. Despite the global challenges of the year, we continued on our lives' rapid trajectory and did the best we could, hand in hand. 

Yesterday I packed up Christmas, and Chris stored the bins away until next year. 

For the last night of '21, we gathered with a full table and some favorite people. I roasted the other half of the monster turkey we bought for Thanksgiving. There was a deep pan of stuffing, flavorful gravy, perfectly roasted potatoes, squash, and beets that Susan contributed. I usually think beets taste like dirt, but these were delicious, and the pan was empty when she took it home. Rachel made a big bowl of crisp Caesar salad and a pan of dense, moist gingerbread from an old family recipe. Cheryl brought a jar of heavy cream from a local Amish dairy, and we whipped it up to dollop all over that dessert. A flavorful ending to the last meal of the year. We lingered as the candles burned down, stories were told, and there were some good laughs. The Owlet was handed around the table but spent most of the evening snoozing on Susan. They both looked content. 

The last guest left around 10:30. We never intended to stay up to usher in the new year. Chris went upstairs, and I sat awhile by the fire, finishing a glass of Port. This is a new vice my son-in-love introduced me to at Christmas. It begs to be sipped and savored and goes well with reflective thinking. At 11:30, I walked out with the dogs for their bedtime meander. Lifting my face to the cloudy sky, I bid a silent goodbye to the year. After my evening ablutions, I cracked the bedroom window open a bit and got under the covers of our soft bed. Chris was sleeping, and I spooned in, relishing his warmth and comforted by the sound of his breathing. On the opposite side of the lake, someone set off some fireworks at midnight. I considered getting up to see but decided there was nowhere I would rather be than where I was at that very moment. With a prayer of gratitude, I slept. 

This morning brings an unblemished calendar, with crisp pages waiting to be filled. Our plan for today and tomorrow is to do... nothing. It's a foggy morning. The house smells of hazelnut coffee, with a hint of smoke from the woodstove. I am snuggled up on the sofa with a warm blanket, the dogs snoozing on either side of me like comforting bookends. Our intention is to rest and recharge a bit so we can embrace 2022 with vigor. I can hardly wait to see what the coming days have in store for us.