Monday, December 14, 2015

Cold Enough For Ya?

With the exquisite timing for which I am famous, I stepped out the door to do chores just as the first raindrops fell yesterday.  Layered up like an oompa-loompa with thermal shirt, hooded sweatshirt, canvas jacket, and wearing double fleece gloves, I still felt the rain hit with the sting of needles and the wind darn near took my feet out from under.  Like it or not, I left both doors to the hen house closed after checking their food and water supply.  I doubt they would have stepped foot outdoors anyhow, but didn't want to chance finding them soaking wet and plastered up against the fence.  I've got a pretty effective rainy-day routine worked out for the goats so milking went fairly smooth.  Cold, wet, yes, but it was a case of git-'er-done, so I did it.

Back in the house, I pulled chairs up to the hearth and spread out jackets and gloves to dry.  Short of stripping, there wasn't much I could do about the wet-to-the-knees bibbies but wait it out.  Just keep moving was the order of the day.  Using the proof cycle on the oven ( a very low setting to let bread dough rise), I actually got that stiff dough I'd made softened enough to put through the pastry bag.  It was a good day to work in the kitchen and I got a couple of gift items checked off.  Ta da!

The wind did die down but the rain continued throughout the day and the temperature continued to drop.  The jacket-draped chairs unfortunately blocked the heat from the room but concentrated it by the hearth, which pleased Ralph and Celeste no end.  They rarely moved from their chosen spots all day.  I do believe I mentioned I am calendar challenged.  Only after I'd strained and bottled milk for Milk Guy did I notice he would not be here today.  Sigh.

Again bundled up like Nanook of the North (go ahead and laugh, Deb - sorry, private joke), I headed out to put the girls to bed.  The rain had stopped and the goats had been under shelter all day, but they were eager to get to their rooms for bedtime snacks, just the same.  The chickens, bored in confinement, had put themselves to bed before dark.

Twenty-eight degrees this morning and it's a white, wintry world out there.  No snow, but icy frost, for sure. 

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