There is a moment, just at sunrise, when the snow takes a pause. I look out and see that our herd is back, searching out those lotus seedpods. Welcome, friends of the forest.
I go downstairs and watch out the kitchen window for a very long while.
A few minutes later I make my way to the barn, just before the temperatures start their rapid fall. We will hop skip from 25F (-4C) to -9F (-23C) in the course of the day. Quite the tumble. The winds from this polar vortex will pick up and the drifts will start forming.
But for now, I walk through a quiet landscape.
I worry about the chickens, even though we do have the heater blowing warm air at the coop now. Ed thinks that perhaps the chickens are like deer who do not seem to mind the cold, but I'm not convinced. I need only watch the hens (and the cats!) navigate a snowy landscape to know that they are not happy in this weather.
(why this Bresse girl chooses to trudge all the way to the garage to lay her egg is beyond me, but she does...)
Twice I rescue a cheeper that appears stuck in a drift. Would she have managed without the assist? I don't want to wait to find out.
We live with animals here at the farmette and we try hard to understand their needs, but of course, we don't always get it right. Nature is complicated. You want to feed the birds in the winter. So do you put out feeders? What if this encourages birds to stay, even as they should leave? What if they grow dependent on your largesse? And teach their young ones to stay? What if a sick bird lands on your dish and now more birds will get sick? And what if birds come down to levels where cats can harm them? What's best for them?? Sustaining natural habitats -- that's the real goal, but good luck with that one! And if we help some, we surely cannot help everyone. We leave some dead trees standing -- for the woodpeckers. We let all crab apples remain -- for the robins, cardinals and finches. For the juncos and nuthatches. I find one -- a nuthatch? trapped in the garage, because we lowered the door too much to keep the drifting snow out. And what should we do with the feral cats that come our way? Occasionally Pancake -- a seventh cat that has been stopping by in recent months -- is hungry. Most of the time, when I bring out food, she panics and runs away. To live with such fear must be tough. But she is not alone -- most of the animals that pass through here have some degree of fear. Even our six farmette ferals go into their flight mode when we move unexpectedly or when strange sounds fill the house. This morning Dance sat in the doorway and refused to come in until I convinced her that it was just the radio making noise. No stranger in the house. No one who would hurt her.
Breakfast.
And then I take a nap. Like a bear in winter, winds and snow bring out the sleepies in me.
In the summer, I buy market flowers for the kitchen table. During the colder months I buy grocery store flowers. But once or twice a year, I buy flowers from flower people who aren't exactly growing these blooms locally. This is a treat for me and I look forward to it in much the same way someone might look forward to a concert or a party.
I ordered a modest bouquet for Christmas this year. A few days ago I got an email telling me that they would have to deliver them a day in advance of my chosen date of Christmas Eve. Delivery issues are rampant right now. Understandable. Then, two days ago I got a message that the flowers will come super early. Like, today. It's the only way to do this, given the blizzard and plummeting temperatures.
It makes no sense to have the flowers on my table now. The point was to have them here when family came for the holidays. But you have to appreciate the effort that these people go to so that you could indulge your great desire to bring color and life to your kitchen table. And I do. A burst of color that came half frozen today in the thick of the storm. Maybe the blooms will last, maybe they wont. But they are loved. And recorded here, on Ocean.
In the afternoon we check on the animals. So far so good. The cats stay mostly inside, using the barn as their outhouse. The chickens huddle in one corner. I'm glad we can give food and shelter to them all.
The cat in the photo is Tuxie. Sweet girl, but shy and retreating. Never comes to the farmhouse, The big mama -- that would be Dance. Dance hates the snow, but she goes back and forth, following the food distribution. (We feed the cats in the shed. We feed us in the farmhouse. She imagines herself to be part of both worlds.)
Sprawled out in some comfy spot, she'll rouse herself instantly when she hears me moving pots and pans around in the kitchen. Dinner, eh? I'm here and ready! (She loves to fold her little paws before her and watch me from her post on top of the heating vent. All that fur and she still loves the heating vent.)
For dinner I reheat a frittata. I cannot believe it is December 22nd. Wow. Solstice behind us, Hanukkah in progress, Christmas --soon. So soon.
With love...
