At some point in every winter, even in this mild one, the bitter cold arrives to take my breath away, chill my lungs and remind me exactly where I am. When I went out into the pasture this afternoon, the wind brought me up short, and my fingers and some toes, frostbitten a few years ago during lambing and my first Mad Winter, throb with attitude. It was well below zero today and the wind was shrieking across the pasture, and the first thing you think of is the animals. Cold and wind are something you need to deal with.  The chickens waterer froze today and we had to go get another one. The cats get fed in the barn.

I saw Minnie coming out to see me, walking on the windblown ice. I am reminded of how different animals are than us, how accepting they are. At these times, and others, you need to speak for them, think of them. I opened up the barn and Maria saw me and came out of the Studio Barn and we wordlessly and quickly and without any need for words got the barn ready for the donkeys. We went and cut open a bale of straw for Simon to lie on, as his legs are weak and he can’t stand up as long as Lulu and Fanny.

We hooked up the new waterer and made sure the sockets were working. Put out feed for the chickens in the morning. Got out some hay for the donkeys to keep them busy. They were eager to rush into the barn. It is cold there, but at least no wind. We will check on them later. Earlier,  I went to Manchester Vt. to drop off photos for printing at the Image Loft, the photos for Gallery 99 the week after next. Picked ten. Did some grocery shopping, picked up some food at the Panda Garden. In for the night. The dogs have little interest in going outside.

This kind of cold reminds me of where I am, and I love that about the cold. It is beautiful and stirring, and I always make it a point to think of James Patterson, who built this farm and of what his winters must have been like. Got a wood stove fire going and the new Jamie Lee Burke mystery. We are good. Orlando seems a good ways away.