We had precipitation last night of the white variety. Although the flaky stuff piled up to about 4", it wasn't enough to deter the big, yellow school bus from picking up all the kidlets standing by the side of the road or waiting just inside the house to merrily dash out and climb aboard, like the Polar Express on its way to the North Pole. Come to think about it, the temperature is probably getting close to a summer day at the Pole. No sense letting the chickens out, poor little feathery creatures would be up to their necks in snow. Now the goat, even though she looks like she's carrying two pack of beer inside her; yup, she's preggars, up the stump, a couple of buns in the oven, I already let her out to forage around and get a bit of exercise if she has a mind to. The dog, out of all the livestock living here on Golden Unicorn Farm, even including the cat that snuggles into the insulation on the top of my art studio, I'd say he's the best equipped with 2 layers of hair to keep out the Arctic gales - matter of fact - he looks right at home, like a miniature polar bear as he stretches out on the icy ground and takes a long nap. If it ever gets seriously cold, I know the only other guy I'd let share our bed with my wife and I, would be old Luki boy - he's as big as me, only a whole lot hairier and warmer.
Although the snow isn't very deep and the frozen rain that was predicted didn't arrive, it has a thin crust, which makes walking a touch difficult. I don't think we need the driveway ploughed but a pathway from the house to the studio, to the woodshed, to the barn, to the truck, to the roadway and for the animals to negotiate a little better would probably be a good idea. Geesh, if I do all that shovelling, there won't be hardly any need for Bobby Farrell and his trusty 1/2 ton truck with a snow plough attached to the front to plough - could save me 25 bucks too. Last year it snowed so much, being waist deep seemed like an everyday occurrence but this year in comparison, hardly a white flake has fallen and I'm OK with that scenario. Finally got the sheets of polyester attached to the outside of the house once again in time for this snowfall (the cheap tape I had previously bought didn't hold). I used red duct tape once again - the only trouble being, when the tape is pulled off in the spring, it leaves a 2" pink border all around the house - looks like a racing stripe on an Indy 500 race car - almost expect the bloody house to shoot across the yard, down the hill into the fields and start doing laps.
Not sure if we're going to the Woodstock Farmer's Market today, like we usually do, because the road conditions aren't that great and I'm OK with that, I've got a lot of projects here to keep me busy for the day, shucks and gee whiz, not just a day - looks more like a life-long project I've somehow back-paddled into. One thing about living on a small farm, if a person can't find something to do, they've got a serious problem or just a big dose of laziness, which is most likely the real reason. Yesterday, I was up at my friend George's place helping (not even sure if that is the proper word to use since he's a master woodworker and is doing most of the work, while I stand and watch and learn) to laminate some boards for the shelving we're going to be erecting in Sarah's pantry, which is the size of a small bedroom. Since there's so much stuff stuffed into the room already, can hardly walk into it, I'm not quite sure where we'll put the shelves - maybe outside the window - no, not a good idea, they'd just fill up with snow.
This blog is beginning to sound like a politician is writing it - spouts off a whole lot but never really says much. So far all I've written about is basically the weather. Perhaps I should throw in a little drama, a touch of hot sex, a mystery, a touch of magic or a love story. Oddly enough, all those things I just mentioned occasionally occur around this little farm. However, since 90% of that happens mostly in the chicken coop, it doesn't really make for a good story or even an intriguing rumour.
Time to give my cold fingers a break, tapping on a keyboard in a cold room doesn't do much good for the arthritis or is it rheumatism - doesn't matter which I guess - my bloody hands just ache, especially my left one. Uh, oh - see Sarah has fired up the old diesel "Buddy", looks like we're heading to the big town of Woodstock - time to go!
Whoops - it wasn't Buddy I heard - it was Bobby's plough-truck. After ploughing away the snow, clearing the immediate yard and driveway, Bobby and I went inside for a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, since I'm not much of a coffee drinker, it turns out I'm not much of a coffee maker either - I had coffee grit in the coffee maker, on the counter and on the floor and in Bobby's cup, it wasn't even drinkable - made one hell of a mess. However, when Sarah got out of bed and discovered the mess I'd made, she told me to just sit down, relax and visit while she perked the coffee. Since, it was almost 10:30am when Bobby left, although the roads are fine, we decided it was too late to drive into town - so my one day a week to the Farmer's Market was cancelled. But that's alright, I've just thrown some wood into the wood stove and I can hear it crackling - won't be long before the studio is as cosy as a wolf's den - time to howl with delight - nothing like being warm and snug on a cold January day - cheers, eh!
No comments:
Post a Comment