I happens predictably. In the depths of winter the sun goes down so early that the evening feeding falls during the blackness of night. Supper is finished, bellies are full and children are tucked in bed for the night. My natural inclination is to curl up by the fire with a good book, or wash the day away with a hot shower and crawl into bed.
When you have animals, no matter the temperature, your sickness or the darkness of winter, they need to be cared for. So without the usual enthusiasm I have for visiting my critters, I don my snow suit and head out into the cold.
Sometimes it hits you hard in the face, the first icy breath to your lungs causes an involuntary gasp. The cold burns on your bare face and creeps down your neck. The chickens eye you from their roosts under the heat lamps. All is well in the barn.
As you trudge away from the glow of the light, the darkness surrounds you. You hear the ice on your well worn path crunching, sometimes accompanied by the hoot of an owl or the eerie call of a coyote. You flick on your flash light and let your feet follow the beam. In the distance it picks up some glowing green eyes. As you approach a soft velvet nose reaches out to exchange frosty billowing breath. The crunching of the ice around you tells you that you are surrounded by 1200 lb shadows. You hear a low welcoming nicker. Suddenly your heart feels warm and full.
You creak open the hay barn and tuck a few flakes of hay under your arm. The horses jostle in the dark to be the first to eat. You pull off a mitten and tuck your hand through a fluffy winter coat and under the warmth of a mane for a good scratch. As you listen to the rhythmic chewing you suddenly notice the expanse of dark sky filled with endless stars. You feel humble, and in the darkness, so alive.
Eventually you tear yourself away from the quiet peacefulness of the night. The bright yellow glow of the house welcomes you back. As you kick off your boots you feel energized, alive and thankful. And you wonder why it was that you didn't feel like going out?
It always happens just like that. The nights I want to go out the least, are the times I am most glad that I did. Its like the darkness heightens your senses and the cold invigorates your body. I alternately dread and feel thankful for my night time chores. Sometimes its so tempting to stay where it is comfortable and warm, but its not until I get out there that I realize what I was missing out on!
Really appreciate the post - sounds very bucolic.
ReplyDeleteThanks Uncle Chris!
DeleteI know exactly how you feel. Hard to get out there, but so happy when you do!
ReplyDeleteIts a funny thing isn't it!
DeleteThis post precisely captures the low enthusiasm I have had lately as well - it's cold, I'm tired, I just want to go to bed, but then I get outside and the dogs start running, I notice the stars and take a moment to check the height of the fence posts jutting out of the snow, and when I get to the barn and check the temperature in the coop stall (-14.8 this morning!) but notice the chickens doing their chickeny thing anyway, then I really feel that just for a moment, no matter what other insanity has taken over the rest of my life, all is right with the world.
ReplyDeleteOf course, this also makes me rethink our entire plan - but that's fodder for a blog post of my own (hopefully this weekend!).
I am so, so happy to hear that you are doing great with this 'farming thing' and you are really getting it off the ground! We will definitely be proud supporters of your farm :)
Mandi
All is right in the world is a great way to describe it! I know my enthusiasm always returns with warmer weather and longer days. And I believe the countdown is on!
DeleteThanks for your encouragement! Despite having a farm name and such, I still don't really feel like a real farm, I wonder if/when that will change.
I am looking forward to seeing your blog post! Hope you are keeping warm in this cold snap!