The snow that is. ‘Cause that’s one of those things that pretty much will whether you ‘allow’ it or not isn’t it? We got our first dump on Sat/Sun. It was actually good timing. It coincided with the first days of complete and total wellness for our bunch. We spent ALL of Sunday afternoon sledding. Not the downhill variety mind you since we have no slopes for that. This was more due to the good fortune of my children having an incredibly indulgent father who is really a big kid himself.

Monday Allen and Asher left in the wee hours for the airport for a short trip. We headed into town to stock up before the next batch of snow which we expected last night. (and therefore canceled our evening activities) The snow itself held off for a few hours but it was just as well. We had a series of unfortunate events, not uncommon to rural living. Should you ever wistfully swoon over a romanticized vision of ranch life let me describe a typical winter day in our life. : )

We canceled piano and scouts as I said, and rather reluctantly because we missed the last few weeks due to the creeping crud.  And we have recital this weekend. It’s one of those things. If we had stayed in town then certainly the snow would have started mid-lesson and we would have skated home with the four wheel drive vehicle unavailable. Since we canceled, the snow held off. Luck of the draw.

The kids began barn chores while I was unloading groceries. We realized how vital Asher is to our manual labor equation. We had to pair up to lift the giant cooler out of the van, to move the frozen water buckets,and to convince the buck he wanted to be inside. Yet do those things we did. (You wouldn’t have expected to have to convince a creature to be inside when it is 13 degrees would you?) Aidan ran in to report a dead hen. She was a victim of the cold and poor judgement apparently and not from foul play, no pun intended. Alannah took that fairly well. We all (children included) sort of whisper that type of news then close our eyes and cross our fingers that she will not come unglued. She raised this batch and has strong feelings about poultry. Aidan, in his best "I am a very big man" voice, further volunteered valiantly to remove said chicken to the dumpster. I kept my composure and nodded in agreement that this would be a splendid service for him to perform. Inside I was doing back flips and making another mental note of how much we miss Asher.

The temperature was dropping rapidly since the wind kicked up so Alannah and I set to work getting the shop light set up in the well pit.  This is one of those crucial tasks that mean the difference between running water and a second mortgage to the plumber.  We got the cords unrolled and the light to the pit then wrestled with the big wooden lid and again sighed thinking fondly of dear Asher. The whole ordeal would have been much better done in daylight but such is life. Between us we slid the cover over enough to realize there was water rapidly filling the well pit. Should you not have a well pit, let me explain that this is where the machinery that pumps the water from the pipes in the ground into the buildings resides. There is a pump and a huge pressure tank and enough electrical do-dads that you would really prefer NOT to see water in the same space. Not outside the pipes anyway.

After a quick phone consult with my dear husband we went to check the cistern. The cistern is a huge holding tank which protects us from variations in water pressure which can be a problem in semi-arid locations. It has a sensor which calls for water from the well when the water level drops to a given point. Apparently the sensor had been stuck on ON and continued to call for water until it overflowed. This was actually a relief. We kicked off the sensor and quickly dumped little boys into baths and ran laundry which served the dual purpose of running the water down and getting everyone clean should the power kick off later.

The wind kept up all night alerting me to the need for more weather stripping on the upstairs storm door which sounded eerily like a tea whistle for many, many hours. I know this because Tess is cutting one year molars this week. I am fairly certain that teeth erupt only after dark. The combination of tea whistle and baby dancing can make for odd twilight sleep and odder dreams.

Alas it is morning now. Time to make the donuts as my mother used to say. People are up and scurrying around and so must I. We were scheduled to take our new doe in to the vet for her exam but I suspect we will reschedule that once more. What I most wish for is to curl up on the couch and read Hillyer to the children over hot chocolate. Just as soon as the milking is done….