Snow Day

We're snowed in on the farm today.  School is cancelled.  When I left work yesterday I told them that if the kids were at home then I would be too, so for me, work is cancelled. We're tucked in, safe, warm, and we have food and firewood.  What else do we need to survive a stormy day?

Rubber boots.  We called them barn boots where I grew up.  They're good for shoveling.

Below is a picture of my driveway.  I know it's not a great picture, but it makes a point.  Snow plow.  One needs a snow plow on a snowy day.  A neighbor is coming over sometime later today to clear the driveway.  I told him there was no hurry because, well, I have no where to go and I'm kinda lovin' that.

Children are helpful to have around on a snowy day.  They're good with shovels.  They shovel, I take pictures.  It works out very well.

You don't need garbage or compost on a snowy day but I was struck this morning that even those two things don't seem so ugly when they're covered up by snow.  

Wash me and I will be whiter than snow.

Whiter than snow, yes whiter than snow.

 Yes, wash me and I will be whiter than snow.

Even a pile of chicken poop can be white.  I think deep theological truths could be discovered here, but I'm going to let you dig them out.

 I'm going to close my eyes and pretend that I'm Ma Ingalls surviving a harsh prairie winter in my sod house.  Charles (aka Farmer Boy) is off hunting, providing for his family.

I remember on many of the TV episodes Ma Ingalls (Caroline) walks into town carrying her basket of eggs to give to Mrs. Olsen.  I wish I could do that. Saunter into town with a basket of eggs. Do you think I look like Caroline?  Anyway, I'm losing myself.   I wonder if Caroline's  chickens looked like this.

They probably did. No wonder they never showed them on TV.  However,  I'm slightly fascinated by my feathered friends.  I wonder why that is?  They're not attractive or endearing.  They stink.  That brown one above pecking at the feeder has a cold.  It was sneezing last night when I went in to feed them and again this morning.  Chicken sneezes sound a lot like petite lady sneezes - polite, quick, unoffending.  Weird I know, but true.

Well, the day marches on here at the farm.  My sod house needs picked up and attended to.  There is mending, ironing and a basket of eggs that needs to be carried into town.

Goodbye.