Saturday, February 6th
Its February and the Punksatawney Phil, despite overcast skies and a few hundred partiers, managed to glance over and see his shadow and the second half of winter is here with a vengeance. I lay the blame at the feet of PETA who, in spite of record high unemployment, threatened to eliminate the cushiest job a ground hog ever had by replacing him with technology in the form of a mechanical faux ground hog. Beware the wrath of the Ground Hog.
This morning found Flower Hill Farm blanketed in snow. I responded by sleeping in as long as the dogs would let me. 6:30 am. Barn chores don’t take time off for snow and wheel barrows don’t work well in snowdrifts. I used a muck bucket filled with manure to construct the traditional “muck bucket luge” track from the barn to the manure pile. The first couple of runs are the hardest, but after that the track is well established and a little iced up and it becomes less a chore of dragging or pushing the muck bucket and more like “escorting” it down the slope to its final destination on the manure pile. The plows not coming for a few hours, we have to do something for amusement.
I turned the horses out and took a few minutes to watch them play in fresh powder. They bucked and careened over space that was soft on their hooves, unlike the last few weeks of hard, sharp, frozen ground. They ran with their noses down letting the soft snow run up their faces and get caught in their manes. They rolled and ran and rolled some more. They played tag and bucked in circles for the sheer joy of it. Jack bit Douggie in the backside and tore off another football sized chuck of blanket. The poor colt is running around with his ass hanging out. Doesn’t seem to mind though. I’ll put another blanket on him tonight, this one is beyond repair. Cha-ching, cha-ching.
Spent a few more hours digging snow tunnels from the house to the barn to the pasture, to the hay loft, and slugging away at the drifts of snow in the driveway. It looks like an Ant Farm. Corrie, the now six month old Lab puppy was diving through the snow like a porpoise, her black coat frosted with snow crystals, making snow angels and criss crossing over the path I just dug from the house to the barn filling it with snow. What’s the point of having a Lab puppy if she can’t get in the way of snow shoveling?
The silence was broken by the sound of gasoline powered snow mobile engines coming over the hill. Twin snowmobiles, no doubt an impulse buy from the Christmas of 2003, that have lain dormant in the back of the garage waiting through so many snowless seasons for one Saturday morning like this one. The Folly of '03 had now become the envy of Skull Hill. For these few hours, they were King of the Unplowed Road. I raised my Diet Pepsi in salute.
I went back inside, barn chores and digging done, stalls all set up for evening feeding. The answering machine has a few messages on it. Other farmer friends, we’re checking on each other. For as many conveniences and electronics and social networking devices that we have, we are still as vulnerable as the original occupants of this land in the hours before the snow plow comes. Everyone is fine, they are making French Toast from the bread, milk and eggs purchased in last nights pre storm grocery frenzy. Then I realize that I forgot to stop at the store for my pre- storm traditions. I forgot to buy wallpaper. Its ten in the morning and the day stretches before me. The fear of boredom hangs heavily. I need a project.
The house is still reasonably clean as it got a good going over in preparation for last Tuesday’s Annual Ground Hog’s Day Bash. Twenty four, enthusiastic, yet tidy, guests joined in the celebration that we still have half our wood and half our hay. We read the traditional ground hog stories of the First Ground Hog Hunters and ate a pot luck dinner made from home canned goods. We had two bands ( Pat and Marilyn “The Reading Rovers” and Gary M. Celima and the Lovely Susan) set up in the corner of the living room. Doc Amy brought her new puppy over for her first social event. A good time was had by all.
Snowy day and nothing to do.
‘
I recently painted the dining room a deep burgundy color. This project was prompted by the fact that the upstairs bathroom plumbing had leaked through the dining room ceiling for what is now the eighth time. I bit the bullet and Gary replaced every inch of plumbing with nuclear grade piping. After the drywall experience from Hell which I may be able to talk about at some later date when the medications wear off, the ceiling is restored and the room is freshly painted. Left over from this project is a can of metallic gold paint. In a “what was I thinking” moment, I bought it (on sale) to use on the dining room trim. Thankfully, Sue came over just as I had brush in hand and stopped me before I turned the dining room into a bordello.
No one to stop me now, at least not until the snow plow comes through..
The can of metallic gold paint calls me from the basement. The closet and entry door to my bedroom need a couple of coats of paint. They are not in pristine condition as they (along with all the other doors in the house) had been used, for a number of years, in the hog house as partitions between the farrowing pens. Rescued by a previous home owner, they serve their purpose and only have a few noticeable bite marks here and there.. Wouldn’t they look just fantastic in metallic gold?
If the hogs could only see them now……
Love,
Liz
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