My gargoyle out back says it all

 January 12, 2008 – I have a tendency at times to panic when life intrudes – crashing markets, sick and vomiting dogs, collapsing barns, the onset of bitter cold. My neighbor, a farmer, told me winters were often filled with snow and bitter cold, but these days, the media makes them sound like the beginning of the Battle of Britain. I am learning a lot about panic this year, especially about how not not to have it, and the brutal cold descending on my farm this week is a great opportunity for me to make headway. Yes, my previously frostbitten fingers will ache, the watering system will freeze, a pipe or two may burst and I will be uncomfortable for days – it might get as low as – 20 by the end of the week at night.
  I choose not to panic, but to fight back. I have three wood stoves, and they are all fired up, going day and night.  I am  getting up at 4 a.m., writing by 6 a.m., getting work done early I am wearing long underwear, several layers of shirts, heavy socks, good boots. Few dog walks, and short distances. Short trips to the barn. The donkeys go inside at night, the sheep can hug the pole barn. I am going to the movies twice this week, going to breakfast at the Pine Grove on Wednesday, driving to Vermont for Thai food one night and tomorrow, shopping in Saratoga for soup and the vegeterian stuff I am drifting towards.
  I am learning that panic is an opportunity to grow, build confidence, deal with life, learn sane and rational responses. Life is almost never about things being perfect, I think, but more often about how we choose to respond to them. It is brutal out right now, and I am going to take the dogs and a friend and my camera and a tripod and take advantage of the bright crisp sunlight to take a photo. Then I will blog and get back to my writing, and I will win a small triumph not only over the cold, but over panicking about it. Back to you shortly.