fluctuation

 

Today I saw the slightest hint of a yellow tone on some of the goldfinches at the feeder. Last night I smashed through a thick layer of ice in the goat troughs before plugging the de-icers in again after a few above-freezing days off.  Yesterday I saw Violet moving quietly from tree to tree, standing for extended periods with all four feet in the little arc of snowless ground at the base of each tree. One morning last week the air smelled - to borrow the perfect terminology of e.e.cummings, "mud-luscious." That night we got more snow.

It's the season of variability. Fluctuations daily. Sometimes hourly.

I've been dealing with a dental/jaw problem since January, or possibly since October, if the jaw pain is connected to audiological issues rather than dental. Hard to say. Also hard to live with, so I've been trying to get it resolved through a series of dental appointments. Right now I'm waiting for a callback from the dentist. For the past couple of weeks the pain has made it difficult to even think straight. Example: this very simple post was started yesterday, and it's taken 24 hours to finish.

On the other and unrelated hand, yesterday I got hooves trimmed on three goats instead of the one I had planned, and now that it's pouring rain I plan to coast on that achievement and trim no hooves at all today. Hah.

I hope all is well with you wherever you are, and that all your hoof-trimming is up to date. It's a good feeling.

~~~~~

all a-dazzle

On the way in from chores this morning.

It snowed heavily all afternoon and evening yesterday.

I had an eye appointment at 4 PM for an in-office glaucoma procedure called selective laser trabeculoplasty (SLT), and since I very much wish to retain my vision - and the volunteer driver was not at all worried about the driving conditions - I went ahead with the appointment.

 

During that ride I thought about all the years I travelled to Cambridge and back, working on my Master's degree and teaching sections in the evenings. It was 75 minutes each way on a clear day with no traffic. During those years I drove through countless storms - one semester I know it snowed nearly every Wednesday evening, because that was a teaching night for me and I drove through every one of those storms. Now being a passenger on a 10-minute drive to an eye appointment had me gripping an armrest and trying to speak normally to the driver who was not at all concerned about the inches of snow over slush on the roads, cars sliding sideways, and poor visibility. Maybe it's a matter of one's current "normal"? Regular commuters have probably been slipsliding through a lot of weather this year.

This is not a barncam image, it's me in the barn with Mallow and Violet.

Campion, Azalea, and Lily are beyond the fence.

We are all contemplating our options.

The laser procedure itself was painless; now just a few days of eyedrops and waiting for the blurring to diminish. The doctor has been tracking pressure in my eyes for several years and always decided it was "borderline" for glaucoma, so we decided against lifelong daily medication (eyedrops) until there was greater concern. However, during my 6-month post-cataract surgery checkup last week he saw a change and gave me the option of - right now! - either going on lifelong drops or having the SLT procedure first, which may turn out to be all I need. Now we go back to tracking.

Meanwhile, on this sunny Wednesday morning we've got several more inches of snow to wade through,  and a forecast for temps in the low 40s (!) this afternoon. Cannot imagine what it will look like here in the hours and days ahead, but at the moment the entire world is coated with ice and the sun is shining and I'm enjoying the view.

~~~~~

on we march

 

A view looking east from the bottom of the driveway.

Checking the mail and taking a few wintery snaps.

I don't bother to check the mail every day. Like my email, most of my regular mail falls into two categories: either asking me for money (suggesting donations or home improvement projects), or offering me money. The "offers" are usually banks suggesting I acquire debt for a "deserved" holiday trip, or strangers wanting to buy my home "for cash"). Not worth a penguin-walk down to road and back.

The forecast last week included one day in the 30s, so I took a few snaps of icicles before they disappeared. These were taken from inside the house, through a row of south-facing windows. Walk along with me, won't you?

Back to the driveway, halfway up and looking southeast toward the house. Much of that snowload slid off the roof yesterday. This time I heard it. I don't know if you can see (click to embiggen?) the overhanging ice dam that had shaded the north windows in the kitchen, but it is now on the ground, and the kitchen is noticeably brighter.

With the warmer hours, the snow on the ground has gotten heavier and wetter. The paths that have been packed down by daily use over several weeks now only appear "packed down" because at random moments my boots go right through the surface into the soggy snow beneath and I'm suddenly over my knees again. I don't enjoy this type of thing; it's a jolt through the spine every time, and it makes keeping one's balance quite tricky. One morning I dropped every single flake of hay I was carrying to the various shelters. There was some unfortunate language that day. But when I'm not actually in the process of tipping over or dropping feed, I focus on how lucky we've been with the weeks of dry powder and the infrequent high winds. There's no denying that it's been a challenging Winter so far, but it could have been So Much Worse.

And now it's Sunday. 

As soon as I post this it will be time for a round of chores.

Then checking my Seed Inventory for the gardens of 2026.

And it's snowing again.

~~~~~

back to the weather

 

I didn't have my first fire until mid-January this year. Later than usual, because I was trying to replace the tiles under the stove and also raise the entire stove to reduce the degree of leaning required to feed the fire several times throughout the day and night. My best attempts to make that project happen were unsuccessful, and when we had several very cold nights in a row and the parlor floor felt cold even through my shoes, it seemed like a good idea to have a fire since the parlor is directly over the little cellar which houses the water pump and other key plumbing elements. So I shelved the plans for the stove area until later this year, made the first fire, and have kept it fed every minute since.

Until last Monday, when it was quite warm out - nearly 30F - and I took the opportunity to let the fire burn out so I could clean the ash layer from the stove and start again. So there was no fire for a few hours, but then a fire again and ever since.

 We have had a few days when the peak temperature reached the mid-twenties to 30F, resulting in some shifting on the substantial ice dams on the house roof. The above snap was taken after morning chores, and when I went back out for afternoon chores, that entire section was on the ground. I wish I had seen and heard it slide and drop, but even though I was in the house and right under that roof, I neither heard nor saw it. Oh well, there's plenty more to come.

So much snow. This snap was taken January 29th:

And this one on February 20th:

Even though some of the snow has softened and settled, it's still up to my kneecaps.

And this was yesterday afternoon:

It snowed all afternoon, all evening, and all night.

We had several fresh inches this morning, and this time it was wet and heavy.

I know this because I re-shoveled the path connecting the portico to the top of the driveway.

Shoveling is not my strong suit, but I was expecting guests and did not want

anyone to have to wade through the previous path which had filled in quite a bit.

Apparently, we are to expect another snowstorm tomorrow. All day tomorrow.

Like Mr. Mallow, I will be trying to stay in the shallows.

Unlike Mallow, I will be thinking:

"It's snow, not ice! Huzzah!"

I hope you are having pleasant weather -

whatever that looks like to you - 

wherever you are today.

~~~~~

not about snow and cold

First of all, I should say I didn't watch the superbowl, only because the sport does not interest me at all. I didn't even watch the halftime show, because I couldn't be bothered to find out what time it was going to happen and knew there would be endless clips all over the internet for the foreseeable future. I do know that  Benito got rave reviews to which I say, well done him and a big "bien!" which was said with great gusto years ago when I asked the gardener at the Institute of Tropical Forestry how he was doing that morning. "Bien!"

Anyway, all that is to say I'm passing along a little YouTube video about an ad which was apparently aired during the game this year. An ad promoting a product to help find lost dogs.

Even if you have no dogs, this is something that might interest you. It certainly caught my attention.

The Very Dystopian Dog Super Bowl Ad

 I try not to soapbox on this blog at all, but this is a Public Service Announcement. It's just a 2-minute video. I hope the link works!

We will soon return to our regularly scheduled programming: the Cold and Snow Report.

~~~~~

sunny morning

It was 8F when I came in at 11 this morning. But sunny! Let's focus on that!

It will surprise no one to hear that we've had a few more inches of snow. It hasn't made any difference in terms of chores, which are very much sled-based. I had a doctor's appointment last week and was a bit surprised that I hadn't lost weight since my previous visit. Perhaps fat has turned to muscle? Sled-pulling, bale-heaving, chaffhaye-dragging muscle? That could only be a good thing.

This is the corner where the house meets the porch, and the final morning chore is topping up the bird feeders here. The wilds have been going through roughly three times the usual amount of seed, and I'm just happy to have stocked up in the Autumn. I had a feeling we were going to have A Winter this year, but I never imagined such an unrelieved period of intense, even brutal, cold. I keep telling the hens and the goats: "It won't last forever." Here's hoping it changes in a milder direction.

~~~~~

ongoing

 

Azalea with a frosty muzzle.

Barncam snap taken a few minutes ago.

6F.

Halfway to the barn.

Lily helping fetch in the hay.

By getting between me and the sled.

Someday I will post photographs that don't feature snow.

Can't say when, but someday.

~~~~~

stovewood

After morning barn chores each day, it's time to fetch in more wood for the stove.

Got to the bottom of the first pallet this week.

Started on the second pallet:

Every morning I load up the smaller cargo sled.

It's enough stovewood for one day.

The next step is pulling the sled around to the portico and unloading it stick by stick into a log tote. It usually takes five or six trips with the tote to empty the sled. Since I can't walk through my house wearing cleats, the boots and gaiters have to come off before I can carry a tote through the kitchen to the parlor.

And there's another warm day and night for Moxie and Della and me

 and the water lines (so far, fingers crossed).

How are your mornings going?

~~~~~

one more time

We had more hours and inches of snow yesterday, but the forecast is for flurries only for the rest of the week. So just one more roof-edge snap of the total accumulation:

I've been trying to persuade Violet, one of my two oldest goats, to wear a coat - made from my old fleece coat - at least at night in this ongoing extremely cold weather. So far I am having limited success. She has been patient about fittings only up til the moment when a girth strap of soft fleece goes around her rib cage, and then she says NO THANK YOU GO AWAY and we have to negotiate every time. I am persisting because I am worried about her, and one night last week I got out of bed and shuffled along the ice-path to the barn because I saw on the barncam that the coat had shifted around and was bunched up and Violet was looked justifiably unhappy. The design modifications have been ongoing; during evening chores tonight I was out there with a needle and thread making on-the-spot adjustments by the light of my headlamp, with Mallow as spellbound audience. The temp is dropping into negative degrees again tonight, so fingers crossed the coat stays in place this time and Violet enjoys the warmth.

Remember when I used to make little fleece coats for the babies who were born during very cold weather? I distinctly remember kneeling on the hard cold ground in the original paddock, cutting up fleece scarfs and designing on the spot. Very quickly, very simply. Turns out cobbling together a coat to fit a 120 pound doe is a little more complicated. Who knew?

~~~~~

following up

 Well the snow started again before I even got out the door.

I think the last time we had this much snow, Piper was out doing chores with me.

I miss Piper so much.

The vantage point chair on the Upper West Side.

I did not sit and enjoy the view today.

The house seen from the barn, with smoke rising from the chimney.

I stayed in the barn for a few minutes sharing out peanuts to these two:

Azalea

and Azalea's mum, Lily of the Valley.

Many of the goats will be going a little stir-crazy if we don't see the sun soon.

When the sun appears, the goats will all be out regardless of the snow.

None of them have to be out in this weather, but maybe you could see the snowflakes on Azalea? And here is Bud, wading between the stilt barn and the temporary shelter:

I don't know if you can see it clearly in the snaps, but the wide shadow 

along the edge of each roof indicates the depth of the snow. It's a lot. 

But as long as we don't lose power (and therefore water), we're fine here. 

Plenty of access to feed, shelters, and water.

Plenty of wood for the stove.

All's well.

Touch wood.

~~~~~

weather happening

 

Terrible phone snap taken through window.

We've had quite a lot of new snow, and more expected today. 

I'm heading out during this lull to do the chores and break trails for the herd.

And put out more seed for the many birds like the jay above waiting a turn at the feeders.

Hope all is well where you are.

~~~~~

thoughts on ice

For what seems like months - and indeed may actually be months - every path between house and barns and paddocks has been an unbroken sheet of thick ice. Paddocks, ditto. My boots are permanently cleated and my pace is a slow penguin-waddle. Last week we had a couple of warmer days and some of the ice had finally begun to melt, exposing rocks like little islands that provided welcome moments of surefooted relief along the still ice-covered paths. Yesterday evening when I came in from carrying water buckets to the paddock trough, I was so happy to reach the house without falling. I was hopeful that more warmish days would melt the rest of the ice before we got more snow. Lovely soft snow. I've often said I'd rather have two feet of snow than a quarter-inch of ice.

But we got more snow last night, insulating the remaining icepack. Despite my cleats, I nearly fell twice this morning just carefully putting out the birdfeeders right next to the house. The fresh snow was already four inches deep at that point and has continued to fall all day. It is genuinely dangerous walking, because even knowing that the ice is under the powder doesn't prevent it from taking your feet out from under you.

These days, icy or not, I am far more conscious of the risk of falling than I was prior to the shoulder dislocation in 2024. Or, more accurately, I was always quite conscious of the risk of falling, and of course knew that a fall could have very bad results, but I had never experienced the very bad results. I've fallen countless times, just as I've bumped into things quite often; I am a clumsy person and even at my advanced age seem to have only a vague concept of where my body begins and ends. I think the worst injury I had had from an earlier fall occurred - wait for it, and I don't mind if you laugh - was when I cracked a rib while vacuuming. I have always said that housework is dangerous.

Thinking back now, my hardest landings have probably been falls from horses. This isn't even about being clumsy; I'd wager anyone who spends much time on horses also comes off now and then. I recall one fall before a training jump when I got up from the ground with the wind knocked out of me and so jelly-legged I could hardly stand, but of course got back in the saddle and rode to the jump again. That whole thing about "getting back on the horse"? It's true.

So that bizarre little plunge from my own doorstep with the resulting shoulder injury was a watershed experience for me. I had plenty of time during the months of one-armed chores and physical therapy to rethink the way I do things, and to simply not do some of the things I had always done. But...chores are chores, and must be done, one way or another, period. Which brings us to this evening's chores. And all this nattering about horses and vacuums and such is looking a bit like procrastination, isn't it? Hmmm. Out I go.

I was about to post this but just realized that it might be better to post it when I'm back inside, chores done, everyone fed and watered and tucked in for the night. So here I go. Hang on a sec.

...

Okay, back again. Fell once, on a slippery slope. Got up. Reassured the three frightened goats who saw it happen and were poised to flee. Checked to see if the packet of banana buttons in my pocket had become a banana smoothie. Miraculously they hadn't, so I handed them out. We were all happy.

Onward!

~~~~~

postcard from the barn

 

Mallow and Azalea saying hello.

~~~~~

report

Moxie watching the sun rise.

I'm back with the water report. The cold water line to my kitchen sink has been replaced. It was pouring rain that morning, and during the plumbing work I think I got more thoroughly soaked than AM did, because he was in the dry crawlspace and I was standing outside the little crawlspace window, yelling, "Do you need anything?" and "What?" and "Are you alright in there?"

Not raining today, though!

Before the work started I asked AM if, after the plumbing,  he would mind taking a moment and just unscrewing the lightbulb in the crawlspace and replacing it with my socket adaptor that would hold both a bulb and an extension cord that might power my bucket de-icers. He very kindly agreed, and after checking that the new water line was functional, he headed for the fixture and that's where the wheels came off, so to speak.

First, the adapter broke while being screwed into the socket. Oh well, it was quite old, but worth a try, I said. For now let's just put the bulb back in the socket and I'll think of something else later. 

But when AM put the original bulb back in the socket, it had stopped working. I borrowed a functioning bulb from a lamp, but when moved to the crawlspace, that one didn't work either. AM decided that the outlet in the crawlspace - a simple single bulb socket - should be replaced. Even though it would mean hardwiring - not the job he had signed up for - AM was ready to go to his house and get another fixture from his personal Collection of Useful Items, but - and this will surprise no one - I knew there was one in my own personal Collection of Useful Items, and mine included an outlet for a 3-prong plug, which you may recall was essential for the extension cord/de-icer experiment. I would not have asked AM to hardwire a fixture but, well, he offered and I've become a lot more comfortable with saying "Great, thanks," when people offer to do things I can no longer tackle myself but would if I could. (About a hundred years ago I wired half my house.)

But...

when AM went back into the crawlspace he realized the box the original socket was wired from was too small for the new ceramic socket-and-plug base, so he went home and got another box and a circuit tester - safety first! - and was back in about 10 minutes. I'll tell you what, it's pretty convenient to have a neighbor doing work here!

All in all, AM finished the water line in about 40 minutes but was here for two hours, thanks to my little request to plug in an extension cord. And he was also quite soaked by the end of it, after crawling in and out of the little window several times during the electronics episode. Fortunately for me, he's not thrown off by the unexpected quirks in projects, probably because his family has an old house too, and livestock. It's probably why he charges by the hour for most jobs. Very sensible.

AM turned an old tattered shelterlogic roundtop
into this permanent shelter after the barn disaster of 2024.
That's a perky Dara in the foreground.

Speaking of livestock...

The testing of the crawlspace circuit extension cord was stretched out over 3 days, as I wanted to add each de-icer cord individually, giving it plenty of time to deal with the ice accumulation in one trough before adding the next. It took over 12 hours just to melt the solid ice in the barn trough! The outdoor trough was added next, then it was time for the wildlife basin. First I had to find the de-icer plug, which was on the ground and had been buried in snow and then encased in ice. I plugged it in overnight and by morning was able to dump out the meltwater and replace it with fresh. I think the birds are happy to have plenty of water available all the time again, instead of a little pan of water replaced twice daily but freezing over quickly.

About thirty finches and juncos flew out of frame
the moment I tried to take this picture. Trust me.

Let's hope the plumbing and electrical projects are finished for a while and I can carry on with other things. There will be no trouble coming up with the next items to work on, but as I often say, everyone needs a hobby, right?  Right??

Sculpture by Quinn

~~~~~

early morning 2026

View from the barn when the wind blows:

Same view, between gusts:

And a lull:

See the light in the window to the far left? That's me, typing this. Right now there are two cardinals at the hanging feeder outside my window, silhouettes only identifiable by their size and crests. They are excavating the new inches of snow on the tray feeder, to see if it's worth the effort. (It is.)

I hope your first day of this new year is a very good one, and I hope all your excavations in 2026 yield your personal equivalent of hulled sunflower seeds and mealworms.

~~~~~