The day  began walking Rose up the hill. Maria came but we never made it back. A farm is a hungry place in so many ways. Farms are all about chores, they shape and define life, and you are never done with them, and animals and weather test the ones you have done. In winters like this, hay has to be good and stored, fences have to hold, water systems have to work, doors and windows need to be kept clear. That’s all there is to it.

A farm has so many parts. Water, fences, paths, sliding doors, buckets, hay, manure to clear. This kind of storm started out raging and didn’t quit. For once, Storm Center understated things. It was a lot worse than we expected, and the farmhouse is engulfed in snow all around. Chris Barrett made two trips and barely got a dent in it.  Tomorrow, heading to Clifton Park Library for the first of four story-telling classes and I am looking forward to it.

I think we’ll get plowed out by then. I think the donkeys will be in the barn for a couple of days, the longest indoor stint of their lives. There is nowhere for them to go. A few minutes ago, we went out to the barn to check on things. The wind is still blowing hard, drifts piling up. The path we shoveled an hour ago is gone. It is quieting, thought. I am grateful Maria is here. I remember so many times doing this by myself. A lot messier.

I feel good about the way we have weathered this winter. We have complained little, taken lots of good photos, and managed to shovel and plan our way through things. Our first hard winter as a couple, and we did well. I don’t care how much snow is out there, you can see Spring coming in the light, and photographer’s always see that right away.

I’ve added video the story-telling and I like it, but I don’t want to get carried away by it. I like the form of the blog and wouldn’t want ot change it too much. But at the same time, it has opened up a whole new channel for me, literally and figuratively. Maria says I’m a visual person. Never thought of myself that way, but there is something to it.