Everyone is saying this snow is a once in a lifetime event.  I hope so, although we are handling it well. Both stoves are keeping us warm, (some oil heat too), it took about seven hours, but both cars are dugout, and we have a lot more shoveling to do – paths for the animals, for deliveries, for us.

Our town is mostly stunned, but also resilient. This is upstate New York after all, and if you can’t handle a snowstorm, it’s time to move. I’m pacing myself but shoveling a lot. I guess I don’t need cardiac rehab today.

My heart is holding up well, my back and legs are living under protest.

We both go out regularly to check on the animals. They seem stressed and bewildered. There is nowhere for them to walk, so they all crowd together by the pasture gate. Today we’ll try to widen the paths and add a couple. It is very snow going in four or five feet of snow.

The way we deal with stress is to make sure the water is clean and warm. That settles them. We also add additional hay and grain, which also calms them and gives them energy. We will dig out as much space – social distancing – as we can. That will help.

And of course, the pole barn is roomy, dry and the new gravel is soft.

The animals are used to herding together, but not so closely. I can see the donkeys are uneasy, they both came rushing up to me, demanding pats and scratches and treats. They got everything they wanted.

I remember reading in my old Farm Journals that snow like this could be the death of a farm – first the cows and livestock and then the farmer and his family.

There was simply no way to get help. We are lucky.

We dug out the cars, then the garbage cans then finished the cards, and began digging out the mailbox, buried under a ton of plowed snow.  We’re regaining control.

I can’t help but appreciate how beautiful this storm has been.

The main roads are all plowed and clear. By tonight, I’ll be all set to go for Monday’s surgery.