“How much winter can a person take?” I wondered as I bundled up yet again to face the outside chores. I had to grab a scarf to add to my overcoat, hat and gloves, just to walk down to the barn that frigid Monday morning. I kept telling myself, “It’s not that cold. It’s just mind over matter.”
It didn’t help that the Packers succumbed to the 49ers the day before at Lambeau. That didn’t warm me up at all. They beat us out of the playoff run again! I really don’t care for Colin Kaepernick. The close-up shots of him smiling made me cringe. At least he didn’t kiss his tattooed arm this year. His uncovered, tattooed arm.
We had our chance; Micah Hyde dropped a pick that would have ended San Francisco’s last drive. We’d have gotten the ball back with Aaron in full warrior mode and I just know he’d have driven us down field to seal the victory. I don’t blame Hyde. It’s a team win or loss. Does it affect my day-to-day existence? Not in the least, but I woke the next day deflated. I so wanted: Just. One. More. Game.
Shaking my head, I put it into perspective. After all, it is just a game.
Getting out to the barn, I could tell no matter how snug we try to keep it, the cold air seeped through every little nook and cranny. The back calf pen’s drinking cup was frozen. Carting a pailful of steaming hot water, I poured it over the pipe leading down to the cup and into the cup. The calves immediately came over, sniffing and wondering what was up.
My husband admonished me, “Don’t clean out those pens now; we’ll wait until we clean barn after breakfast. It might freeze on in the meantime!” That doesn’t happen often. Usually I clean pens during milking so that job is complete when mid-morning chores are done.
Feeding outside heifers was a task I dreaded that below-zero morning. To make sure our skid steer started, we had parked it just inside the double-wide barn door, letting the animals’ natural body heat warm the interior of the barn. During a lull in milking, my husband backed the skidder out of the barn for me. I was standing by in full battle mode, not a square inch of flesh exposed.
The day before when the temps were in the 20s, my husband and a good friend fixed our barn door, putting up new rollers and securing the door tight against the chill. While they were busy with that task, I was attempting to disrobe Christmas. I love to put Christmas decorations up, but just after the New Year, I’m ready to get things back to normal.
Taking advantage of the “balmy” temps, I took down our outdoor nativity scene, unstrung the lights from the tree and wrapped up the extension cords. Taking down inside decorations was the next challenge.
Because husband was busy with the new barn door, I decided I’d take our tree out myself. Not such a good notion. Getting all the ornaments off, the lights undone and removing the angel from the top, I stepped back and sized up the big tree. “I can’t do this.” I didn’t want to bother husband; he was busy with our friend and they had to get that done before the next cold snap. I revamped my thinking: “I can do this!”
To guard against prickly needles, I put a coat on and some gloves. As I unhooked the wire holding the tree upright, two thoughts: “Too late to change my mind now!” and “Next year we’re getting a fake one!” My only error was I dragged the tree out of the door by the top, not the stand. Halfway through the door it got stuck. Tight. Really tight.
The back door was wide open, I had a tree halfway in, halfway out and help was the length of the yard away. I made up my mind. Making a run for it I stopped at the barnyard fence and called sweetly, “Honey? Could I spare you for just a teensy minute? I got the tree stuck.”
He took one look, noticed my utter dismay and didn’t hesitate but started coming with a resigned smile. Our friend chuckled and stayed on task. I only needed two strong arms.
He pulled and grunted and pulled and grunted and finally exclaimed, “This is like pulling a bull calf out!” At length he got it out with a suggestion: “Next year don’t try this yourself or if you do, pull it out by the bottom!”
They buttoned up the door project and not a day too soon. The skid steer started because of its warm housing that night, but the tractor in the shed did not (despite a plugged-in heater). The only way we could clean the barn was by letting the manure drop into the skid steer, and piling it off to the side.
What an icy-cold challenging winter we’ve already had. Really, it’s just mind over matter.
Ah, who am I trying to kid? I mind and it matters!
(“The spirit is willing but the body is weak.” Matthew 26:41)
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