Dust of Snow

It has been a terribly long time since I have written; my apologies.
The end of 2013 was a bit hectic....But now I'm just making excuses.

Naturally, the gardens are all closed up at this time of year, which gives us a bit of time to read lots of novels and seed catalogs!

November 16, 2001-November 23, 2013
R.I.P. Luna

The animals are doing quite well; we are expecting some new calves in the near future. Isabelle (the pig) spends most of her time lounging in her straw deluxe-sized bed, with the occasional interruption to get up and eat. The horses are all doing quite well, though there was an incident with Roscoe getting stuck on ice and having to take the tractor out to the field to rescue him (I was not at the farm, so I cannot give you the full account). Unfortunately, we had a sad loss at the end of November; our beloved farm dog, Luna, passed away after 12 years of companionship.

The weather here is, as usual, absolutely unpredictable. We get a snow storm about once a week (often on Wednesdays) and it's really cold around Wednesdays, then on the weekend it starts to warm up and thaw out --a lot-- and then the pattern starts all over again. The only thing you can really count on is it being perpetually damp. Also, the Groundhog totally did not see his shadow where I live today. Did he see his shadow where you live?

It's also very close to CSA brochure and registration time!

"Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy head; 
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake.
Are frosted like a wedding cake."

-Robert Louis Stevenson