Every morning here begins with Maria carrying hay into the pasture. It is a chore she relishes and so do the animals. Maria is the Pied Piper of Bedlam Farm.

We are into the deep winter now, the thermometer below zero every morning, a storm predicted to start at noon.

I’m running into Saratoga to bring some thank you gifts to Marie and the nurses who cheered me on and watched me during cardiac rehab.

I want to get there and back before the snow starts; the prediction is for 4 to 8 inches—a chance to get the new battery-powered snowblower out. We’re also filling the bird feeders, giving the sheep and donkeys some grain.

Our frisky lamb Scott has a bare patch on one leg; Maria is outside now spraying some anti-biotics and disinfectant on it, just in case.

Scott is like a teenage boy, always verging on trouble.

I always do a storm scan before storms, even relatively minor ones like this. We have hay in the barn, food in the refrigerator, wood for the stoves, suet for the birds.

We also have candles and flashlights ready; storms are unpredictable, sometimes less, sometimes more than expected. Nobody predicted we’d get 40 inches the last time.

Thanks, Joanne, for making the first Venmo one-time donation.  The Mansion is under quarantine today; I wish them well. They have worked so hard to keep the residents safe.

I’m racking my brain for ways to help, but I think this is a time where they are best left alone. They know we are here if they need us. I’ve got a dozen crochet kids arriving today at the farm for the Mansion. I think I’ll hold onto it for a bit.