Snowing

Woke up at 5:30 with some ridiculous language going on the TV...one problem with falling asleep with it on.  There was some awful MF this and FU that and I thought I was back in school.  Not a pleasant way to wake up.  I snuggled with darling little Sadie, who sleeps on my shoulder just like a kitty cat.  I am so enjoying this puppy time with her.  I can understand why people only have one child to lavish all their love and attention on.  I always wanted a dozen kids,  but it didn't work out that way, so I have dozens of animals.  Sadie has very soft, velvety skin and ears that are like long, delicate flower petals that hang from either side of her head.  She has the sweetest little snout, with those wrinkles of bloodhound skin on her nose, making her absolutely delicious to cuddle with.  The pads on her paws are the softest rubbery little buttons.  We spent a half hour playing on the pillow before I had to get up and put on some lovely classical music.  I was putting it off as long as I could as I knew that as soon as my feet touched the floor all the dogs would jump up ready to go out.  It is just as cold as I thought it was...around zero...with a gentle snow falling.  Sadie HATES the snow.  I keep taking her out just in case she might decide to pee on the frozen iciness, but so far no good.  She can't relax enough to let it go, and jumps up on my leg or runs to the door to get back in.  Thor barking at the inside dogs who have just run past his door in the barn doesn't help.  He must look like a great white nasty polar bear to little Sadie.  I carry her back in and snuggle some more.  My fire situation is not good.  I bought two fabulous cords from a teacher at work, but the logs are too big for my stove.  Her husband, God bless him, threw in some small logs, but they are long gone and I can't keep spending big bucks on store bought firestarters.  Believe you me I will invest in a maul and a new axe head to start splitting some of these big logs.  The axe head I have is dull as a rock and bounces off the log.  It will be awkward at first but women have been splitting wood from the beginning of time so I can do it too.  Loren W. is coming today and I am very hopeful.  Randy never showed up with the hay feeder he swore he built for me so I can only imagine it never existed.  The pricey one I bought from a feed store before I moved here has completely fallen apart now with the rungs posing a threat to the eyes of my animals.  I had the carpentry students build me one a couple of years ago but it lasted two weeks.  I almost brought it back to the carpentry teacher thinking how can these boys build a house for people if they can't build a simple hay feeder but I just told him about it instead.  They had glued it but not screwed it.  Matt laughed when he saw it in back of the truck, but the Master Builder never got around to building me a hay feeder himself.    Enter Loren, my former student, who did a good job of painting part of my barn last summer.  Loren is coming over to put on together from a panel I bought at Tractor Supply yesterday.  I went there after school, which requires driving across the city of Norwich, in the wrong direction from my farm, which I hate to do, but this hay situation is ridiculous.  I walked through the yard and picked out the panel I wanted - four inch squared of sturdy welded wire, eight feet long and five feet wide.  I got the name and number from the tag and went back in to tell the clerk.  While waiting for the line to die down I walked around getting some things I needed like puppy food, rabbit pellets and wormer, and bumped into my dear sheep friend Lisa Merian. Lisa introduced me to this area, and helped me find my farm.   I hardly ever get to see her as she lives in Bainbridge, an hour south of Norwich, and I am almost an hour north of Norwich - therein lies the problem.  We both are so tied to the farm that the only real frivolous visiting time we do is at sheep shows between waiting on customers who, thankfully, keep our farms alive.  Marie Merian, Lisa's mother,  is recovering nicely from her broken hip and getting around in a wheel chair.  Marie is a world-class knitter and  rug-hooker who we went to all the shows until recently.  She takes care of all the little lambs who need extra TLC, tube and bottle feeding, and holds down the home front while Lisa travels to schools with her fiber art teaching.  Lisa and I talked for a while and she commiserated with me on the hay feeder issue.  I asked some TS guys if they would cut two panels for me and help me mount them on the top of my Blazer.  The one in charge said we will cut them but we can't be responsible for mounting them on your truck.  Lisa kindly said she would help me, and I bought bungee cords to do the job.  The TS guys decided to help me anyway and we all got the panels secured.  I left them there for Loren to take off when he comes today.  We'll fashion a hay basket and tie it together with the spool of wire I bought and secure it to the wooden stanchion.  Raising sheep is all about clever management and building of the proper equipment  - something I've never had, but dream of constantly.  Speaking of dreaming, I think I will lie down for a little while and watch the flickering fire, which, thankfully is showing some flame.  I managed to get outside in my nightie to dig deep for some smaller logs in the Two Blondes Wood Pile.  I think next year Mia and I will separate the smaller logs from the bigger, and maybe we will both be splitting wood.  "Wouldn't" that be fun for her to tell her friends in the upscale fancy hospital where she works?  There is a lovely Lake Effect snow coming down, making my beautiful barn look like something in a Currier and Ives calendar.  I wonder if those calendars exist any more?  Farm Family Insurance sends me a barn calender every year, but none of the barns are as pretty as mine. They may be landscaped with flower beds and perfect windows, but I doubt if there is as much love going on inside, along with the pain and drudgery.   I won't live as long as I need to live to really make something out of this place, but it's all about the Quest, isn't it?