Everywhere I go I hear people complaining, “I am just so sick of it!” and they’re talking about this winter’s weather. Completely agreeing with them, I’m sick of it, too. I’m sick of the snow, I’m sick of the cold, I’m sick of the almost constant wind, I’m sick of winter in general.
Every day, I still must bundle up in layers when I haul out the skid-steer and feed our outside heifers a couple of buckets of frozen corn silage mixed in with frozen hunks of corn silage. They look at me as if they’re saying, “That all you got, Kay? I’m sick of frozen corn silage!” Seriously, if they could talk …
I can’t walk anywhere without shuffling, afraid I’ll slip and fall on my duff. Our yard has been beaten down by the endless brisk winds we’ve been dealing with and it looks like a skating rink. I threw lime down outside our milk house so when our milkman comes he won’t slip as he works the tube into the milk house to pump the milk out of our bulk tank into his tank truck.
I’m sick of hauling wood from our dwindling stockpile over to our wood stove. The wood has been burning up fast this frigid winter. We couldn’t get our wood splitter to start so a guy suggested we cover it with a blanket and plug in an electric heater close by to warm it up.
That worked, so we hauled the splitter to where my husband had pulled a couple of big logs out before we got this last blast of snow. Now there’s so much snow we can’t get at our wood. We’ve even had to resort to buying a couple of loads of wood! Unheard of when we have a woods full of wood!
One mild-weather day, I went to town in the morning for groceries and running errands, etc. My husband handled mid-morning chores. We agreed to meet to cut wood after each of us got our morning work done and errands run. As I made my way around town that morning everyone was smiling. People were greeting each other and standing around chatting because the sun and 40 degrees felt so good! Forty degrees, mind you! It was above freezing!
That afternoon we split the big logs we could get at and piled them into the truck. As we were working, we both peeled down to a hooded sweatshirt. It was the first time all winter I could work outside in something less than three layers. The very next day, we got blasted with yet another storm, this time a mix of rain/ice/snow.
I feel for our wooded creatures. The deer have been gathering around our silage bags, nibbling on the spill-overs. On any given night as we’re milking, we count 20 or more deer. We chase them away half-halfheartedly. It’s not long and they’re back. They have nothing else to eat. The spring turkey hunt will harvest some pretty scrawny birds, I’m afraid, if any at all.
We have a number of calves inside the barn that we should move around to accommodate them better. My husband is waiting until it warms up. The pen the little ones should be moving into freezes on one side. There is a hunk of manure in that corner measuring about 10 inches by 10 inches that I cannot clean out as it’s frozen solid and rock-hard. We don’t want the little calves in that pen with the outside east wall butting up on one side. It’s OK for the larger calves; with more of them in the pen they keep each other warm. We do not feel comfortable putting smaller, more fragile milk-fed calves in there until it does warm up.
I’m yearning to plant something, inhale the aroma of sweet, fresh-cut alfalfa and mow lawn, feel the sun’s warmth on my bare arms. I want to see green. I want to walk outside in flip-flops. I’d even be happy to pick stones. Yes I would, even that dreadful task doesn’t sound so bad.
Oh, quit complaining! I can work, breathe and have plenty to eat, a warm house to call home, friends and family close by, good books to read. The days are getting longer. Spring will come. One day. Have patience.
(“But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” Romans 8:5)
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