No Hibernation for this Bear

My husband and I are not lazy.  Quite the contrary.  We work our little buttocks off, here on the hill.  We both work full-time jobs, then come home and do farm chores.  Weekends usually bring hours of work on the latest project.   

With that qualifier, I see that, somehow, winter has once again come too soon, with many "get that done before winter" projects still hanging out there. 

Wake up! There's work to do!

I observe the frosty mornings with dismay, as it means the ground will soon freeze, and that will make it really tough to drive T-posts.  I feel the northwest wind howling steadily against my face and ears, and wish I had prepared the upper pasture for the sheep, so we could move them closer to the barn for the winter.  If I don't get that done, I'll be trudging a long way through snow to feed and water them, soon.  I slop through the wet paddock at the bottom of the pasture and realize I missed my opportunity to excavate and improve the footing there this year, since it's now wet and the November sun is simply not hot enough to dry it up between rain and snow showers.

Tonight, I spent a couple hours stumbling along the fence line, examining every connection by flashlight, to figure out why the electric charge wasn't going all the way around the perimeter.  I figured it out and fixed it.  Another check on the checklist, an endless list that, for every check we make, two more tasks appear.

For some crazy reason, this is how we choose to spend our "free" time.   I wonder guiltily how I dragged my husband into this.   At least I have the pleasure of riding the horses, something he does not do.  He does get big toys, like a tractor, a nail gun, etc., but he wouldn't need those things if we were more normal.

On these November mornings when the alarm goes off and it's still dark out, and I hear the wind whistling by the windows, I just know it's going to be cold out there, and I don't want to get out of bed.  But then I picture the hungry horses out in the cold, and I get up, feed the dog, toss a grape to the parrot and bundle up.  I head out the door and look up at the stars, and the cat appears from somewhere, purring loudly around my feet, and the horses nicker when they hear me coming, knowing hay will soon be delivered.  

Then I remember that I love this life, and I'm thankful for it, and I don't even mind the cold and the dark.  I just wish I had a little more daylight and a little more warmth, because there is so darn much to get done!