I am sitting here at my desk after a 27 hour shift that involved working a snowstorm and I am very tired. Now don't get me wrong, I get it. I live in New England, and winters...well, they're winters. Cold. Snow. Ice. You get the drift. Things are made more difficult by the face that I live on a farm. Not a huge one, but it's big enough. I love living on a farm and the things that go along with it. I have two horses. Seventeen chickens. Nine ducks. Five dogs. One barn cat. I love that fact that I can saddle up and go for a ride whenever I want. If I feel like having an omlette for breakfast, I go out to the garden and see what veggies are ready and go to the coop and grab some eggs. I sit on my back deck and eat my omlette with my morning coffee and listen to the sounds of my farm.
But when old man winter rolls around my enthusiasm wanes. Things are harder on the farm in the winter. Frozen water buckets. The stalls and the pens all get nastier just a little quicker. The peeps are not winter girls. They stand in the coop doorway and look at the sea of white stuff before them and make a quick retreat back to the safety and warmth of their house. The snow just isn't for them. Mucking stalls is made more difficult too. Frozen poo. Pushing wheelbarrows through the snow to the manure pile. Ugh. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Bring on Spring.