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Archive for November 20th, 2008

First Snow on the Farm

Nov
20

Does she not need some reindeer antlers and a holiday bell around her neck?

Clover may have been prancing, but the goats haven’t been all that pleased with this week’s late autumn preview of winter.

The babies have definitely been confused. WHAT IS THIS COLD WHITE STUFF?

As for me, oh does it make chores cold! I have to break up their water for drinking every morning.

And keep a steady supply of hay available.

Though they did figure out the snow was good for something.

Slurping.

And more slurping.

We didn’t have a particularly heavy snow–just a few inches. Just enough to imagine what a real snow would be like. A real snow that would really coat the hills in a blanket of soft white. I can’t wait to see, though I’m a little scared.

Maybe the birds were scared, too. They returned, in force, to the feeders.

The chickens have been eager for their scratch, too.

Why would I be a little scared of snow?

Well, there is that road thing……. I have to get Princess nearly three miles to the bus on a rough country road where no snow plow dare travel. And sometimes, not me, either. Sometimes I’m scared just to go down the steps.

She stayed home on Tuesday, due to my eternal wimpiness, and helped with chores.

This is her idea of a jacket. A flannel pajama top she now wears all the time, even to school, as her jacket.

Coco enjoyed helping with chores, too.

I had fun later taking a rake out there, climbing in under the snow-drooping wire over the top of the chicken yard and banging up at the packed snow to shake it down. On top of my head.

But hey, at least I had help with the chores on one frigid day!

If you can call getting slammed with a snowball help.

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Warm Comfort on a Cold Day

Nov
20

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....



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