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i am trying to embrace this weather… truly, i am.

April 15, 2013
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this is the blog post that i started one week ago today, just hours before things began to go awry…


I wake to the screeching of bluejays in the uppermost branches of the evergreens, having  drifted back to sleep after turning off the alarm.  For the first time ever, at least as far back as I can remember, I now get enough sleep, consistently eight hours per night.  It is delicious to wake up in the morning well rested, to make it through an active day without collapsing in a tired heap at some point for a less than restful nap. For the first time in almost two weeks I am home alone, my routine returning to normal after an extremely busy spring break that included company for a week along with the flurry of activity associated with the arrival of Rose to our farm.  It’s bittersweet.  As much as I need time alone to feel productive and creative, I fall completely into the rhythm of activity when the rest of the family has time off and we work together to get things done.  I feel their absence already.

I look into the mirror and find a tanned face gazing back at me, evidence of time spent outside working on the farm.  It’s a bit of a surprise, actually, to see a noticeable difference that has occurred so unintentionally.  I head outside to feed the horses who are waiting patiently along the fence.  They seem surprised to find me coming out alone this morning, having grown accustomed to the joint efforts of the past ten days.  We’re starting to notice the hay stack diminish now, due to both months of feeding and now the loss of hay that got wet and has molded.  I sort through the end of a bale, discarding most of what’s left, and then start a new bale that is thankfully clean and dry. Coming back I pick wisps of hay out of my hair along with some pine needles from ducking between the trees to reach the feeders on the far side.

Robins are hopping around the yard looking for worms, and I notice bunches of tulips and jonquils popping up everywhere around the gardens, joined by ones we planted along the garage last fall.  Nothing has bloomed yet except for a couple of yellow crocus, and the tree buds remain tight as well.  I’m learning to take cues from nature, that these living things innately know what we humans only discover later–  harsh weather is coming.  After a string of teasingly springlike 60 degree days, tomorrow’s high is predicted to be only 21.  Snow will begin tonight, blanketing our newly rototilled garden and hiding it from sight once again.  It’s hard to think about such a radical change, despite the fact that we need moisture so badly.  I long to be outdoors in warm sunshine working with the horses and planting the garden.

The dogs are happily snoozing together late into the morning, and I marvel at the peace and quiet.  I put a load of sheets into the washing machine and make a pot of strong coffee, thinking about how to use my time on this day.  I postpone the indoor activities, knowing that I need to make the most of today’s fair weather while I can.  There are pens to clean, horses, donkeys and chickens to turn out, some one-on-one time with Rose to enjoy, cushions from the deck furniture to put back into the garage, and hopefully the weather will hold long enough to ride Si Gaoithe after Sara gets home.  I check email, making a hopeful promise to myself that I will not get snagged into wasting time on the computer instead of using it productively.  Time will tell.  The dogs begin to stir and I let them out, then go to transfer wet sheets into the dryer where I leave them softly tumbling.  Otis and Sam begin to bray loudly, reminding me that others await.  My morning of quiet reverie is coming to a close.


that last sentence is called an understatement.

these are the photos that would have accompanied text of that idyllic afternoon:





just hours later began a series of events that have made today–  one week later–

my first day home alone with any semblance of normalcy…

if one can overlook the heavy snowfall accumulating outside as i type this.

the blizzard began that night, canceling school and plunging temperatures well below freezing,

necessitating the reinstallation of tank heaters in the water troughs

after thinking we had put them away for the season.




this is the sole survivor of the bulb garden for this spring.

everything else froze.

then there was the plumbing fiasco.

long story short, i now know how to access the crawl space

where the plumber had to cut the pipe to remove the clog

and then clamp the two sections back together.

that created a little, ahem, MESS.

fast forward to the weekend.


colorado/wyoming style–

biting, constant, unrelenting, agitating.

pretty sure the folks west of us are left gasping for breath

since all of their air rushed in here.

rain ahead of predicted snow left the baby horse pen

a puddle of mud and poop soup,

so we had to make a couple of runs for sand to fill in.

over two tons of sand.

suddenly the pen looked a little bit like barbados,

if you squinted hard.

not any more.

it is snowing.

the remainder of this post is my attempt to find

photographic beauty in this snow

to make up for all of the outdoor activities

that are once again put on hold.





brief intermission of indoor color:




finally got all six of the horse canvases up–

needed help with meadbh up on top!



and back to snow…






we need this moisture.

colorado was just put on a list of the

five most drought-stricken states in the nation.

moisture means hay this summer.

we like hay.

we love hay.

we need hay.

let it snow.

spring will get here.


until then, here’s a little color for your world:


4 Comments leave one →
  1. Mary Harte permalink
    April 16, 2013 11:00 am

    I can’t wait to see what it’s like to be well rested and sleep more than six hours a night. That seems to be my norm. Still waiting to hear. I love all your pictures. I love the glass balls. I have a whole row of them in my living room, but I do love glass. You have grown so much in the almost 40 years we’ve been friends. You amaze me!

    • sassysistersink permalink*
      April 16, 2013 3:22 pm

      we love glass,too. both of those are from deutschland trips. i am eager to hear what you find out about retirement. it will be good to have you back here but sad not to be coming to visit you over there! and yes, we have been friends for a very long time. you are absolutely among the top ten people who have influenced my life… make that the top five! LOVE YOU!!

  2. April 16, 2013 11:07 am

    i’m picturing you with a tanned face, hay and pine needles in your hair, and i like what i “see”….

    so sorry for your weather blues. seems like this winter will never end. i’ll send you some warmth and blue skies….that’s what we have right now….

    • sassysistersink permalink*
      April 16, 2013 3:27 pm

      there is a foot of the most beautiful snow blanketing everything this morning. the donkeys look like their legs are only six inches tall– it’s hilarious! the horses are draped with ice crystals from their manes and the long guard hairs along their sides. last night i told sara that it looked like they were wearing chandeliers! it’s still outside right now, but this storm is expected to last through tomorrow with perhaps rain and then more snow on the way. i think my tan is fading…

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