December 18, 2020
Why is it always such a shock when winter finally settles in?
It's not like we don't get months of warning, and in fact Anne and I have been steadily preparing for it for weeks.
It's kind of like the much anticipated visit of a barely welcomed, overly enthusiastic and seriously high maintenance house guest. Her arrival is written, very clearly on the calendar in ink. It's inevitable - I know it's inevitable, but its still a rude awakening when the day comes.
But in winter's defense, New England just wouldn't be New England without it.
After each storm passes, there is a stillness that blankets the world, and out of that stillness a quintessential New England scene emerges.
Everything might look magically subdued in the snow but everything sounds crystalline in the cold. Even the most mundane noises are again a crisp octave higher.
The sharp click of the gate closing behind me and the squeak of the rusty hinge on the barn door. The sound of ice shattering in the water troughs- as we break through to the water below. And the most lulling sound of all- the rhythmic crunch of our footsteps, back and forth, across the frozen ground.
The sheep love the snow and they are magnificently in their element. Almost as if showing off to the pigs, they playfully kick their hind legs out as they race across the pasture to greet me. ( actually it's just their morning hay, which I am carrying, that they are so happy to see)
The pigs on the other hand are even crankier than usual. Not being fans of either the snow or the cold, they burrow in the hay, in one massive pig pile, and from their cozy nest they track my movements with one eye open. Trying to ascertain what I am doing, and if what I am carrying is edible.
The chickens appear content to spend the day inside their coop. With the door wide open, they are probably wondering what happened overnight to their world outside - and if I were them - dreaming of the arrival of spring....