Just in time for the snow today, the wood pile is finished! My husband cut and split 14 cord of tree-length wood (without a splitter, as in, he used an ax the old fashioned way) within the past number of weeks. Next year, we look forward to (ok, looking forward to that chore may be a stretch) getting it done earlier in the year, so we’re not racing snowflakes or having to tug on logs that are frozen to the ground. But I digress. It’s a super feeling to have a big job like that completed. Our kids helped too.
The goats have tasted freedom, with their excursion to the wood pile. And now, I’m afraid, there is no stopping them. They have become girls on a mission. A mission to join the chickens. (Which is not really allowed, because then I have to plug up the chicken feeders. Goats, it would seem, are not good rule followers. They have some “boundary issues.”)
In the little house they share with the chickens – and on icy occasions, the ducks, Gideon and Lois – there is an adorable iron fence that separates the two sides, and each set of animals has its own door to its own yard. Except that is only how it works in my mind. In real life, the goats discovered yesterday how to joyfully and effortlessly leap over the divider, as though they are cows jumping over the moon or the little sheep you count in your mind, leaping over something imaginary as you drift off to sleep. A less esthetically pleasing and more “functional” divider will be forthcoming.
While the animals were having their unruly morning, flakes of snow, the likes of which I have not seen, began to fall. The thing about this snow that is so unique is how huge the flakes are and how fake they appear. Like, perfect cut-out paper snowflakes. Only not paper.
The baby chicks are getting huge now! I’ll have to get some photos of them to show you. And little Hopalong is still hanging in there, even though she’s a little tidbit of a chick. I’m not sure how she’ll fare. But we just take each day one at a time here. That’s really all we can do. Each day is full. It brings with it the glimmer of frosty morning ground, the sounds of children and animals, the cozy warmth of coffee and wood smoke. And the exact measure of grace needed to face whatever comes.