Tuesday, January 11, 2011

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.


1 comment:

  1. You have always had a thing for chickens.
    and I think you make a good Ma Ingalls!
    Glad to hear you made it through your week without Farmer Boy to help you through, why is it you always have some kind of crisis going on when he leaves.... Murphy hard at work for sure...
    Stay warm and dry and leave the Chickens in peace!


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