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.
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