I Don’t Even Know What Day Of The Blizzard

The winds have, for the most part, quieted. The sun has been shining on the black hides of the cows warming them as they rest and recover laying and soaking up the warmth. The children have been off exploring colossal snow drift. The adults have been getting to sit down a little bit. Trying to catch a glimpse of this cabin fever we’ve heard some people talk about. Or at least a bit of rest.

We woke to fog yesterday.

Hoar frost covered tree branches, fences, and animals. The ground and the very air glistened white. God decorated his creation with such beauty it seem sacrilig to disturb it. Still and silent the world shined under its blanket of crystal. Even the sun was decorated, sundogs nearly circling it.

Until the wind came to destroy the tranquility. No longer whipping, instead quiet and insidious. Just enough to blow the crystals in the air at our faces stinging and cold. Falling to the ground they mix with the snow. The windchill dropped and my face froze walking back to the house after feeding.

It was time to try to make it to the store. My husband and children had gone off to work already. The highway was plowed in a fierce battle against drifts. My husband had blown a path clear to get to the highway. We were almost out of milk.

It felt weird reentering the rest of the world. The drifts along the way were fascinating. The roads were mostly clear, just narrow. All the stores were out of milk.

Except our little local store. The one that had been out before the snow. It made me feel dreadfully guilty for giving business to the behemoth instead.

We developed a new kitty through the storm.

The small black cat has been around for a few weeks now. Yowling at us from a distance, we’ve been putting feed out to appease it. It had not been willing to let us get close. By the end of the snow it came to our back door with it’s loud demands.

My husband fed it and petted it. Apparently that broke the barrier. She now not only lets, but noisily request petting and holding. We worry about our own cats response to an intruder and are not willing to let her in the house. She has been spending large parts of her days on the back porch keeping warm and we’re trying to get some weight on her.

Until then she has been Christened Bones. A fitting name for her tiny skeletal form.