From the moment the weather people were whispering gibberish about a storm of epic proportions, I was pretty convinced (well, that’s what I kept telling myself and everyone else)Â it wouldn’t happen. After all, winter had been kind to us. Yes, there were some bitter cold days, but no snow. None. And we were almost to the end of January.
But then those weather people started showing snow maps, talking about a “blizzard” and then posting pictures like this:
Awesome (the deep red/maroon patch, that’s us). Double awesome.
So when a storm is labeled “over-achieving,” it was time to get prepared. In a matter of days we bought a generator, had the chimney cleaned and inspected, piled wood in the garage, squared away our livestock (for the inevitability of being held hostage in their shelters), and prepared for the worst.
And then it started. By 6 AM Saturday morning there was 18 inches on the ground. Our little Polaris Ranger with the snow plow attachment was not having it.
Eventually our only method of snow removal gave up. After repairing the wench cable four times, the actual attachment on the Polaris broke. There was too much snow on our farm to remove. And while we had enough food, water, and heat to make it through, the reality of being stuck on our farm for days was not sitting well. Having to walk across 27 acres in blizzard conditions was not fun, even with the help of snowshoes. This was not for bragging rights or fitness gain, but necessity as the barn with our steers sits at the other end of our farm. We could not access roads because we couldn’t drive over the 3 feet of snow on the ground. As I was returning from taking care of Oscar and Sheldon, every part of me was exhausted. The snow hitting my face like needles of ice, the house barely visible in the distance. I stopped at one point in the middle of our land thinking, “this. really. sucks.” But our power stayed on, our house warm, and our animals safe and snug as much as they could be.
We woke up early the next morning to a bright moon and stillness. Bringing the horses their hay and feed an arduous task in feet upon feet of snow. But this. A reminder that all storms do end. And a new day begins.
The beauty of something like this is almost a metaphor for life. It is messy and unpredictable. These storms make one appreciate the calm more. And while the reality of having a farm during a blizzard was enough to make one’s head spin, the experience will better prepare us for next time.
Also friends and neighbors with snow removal equipment are the coolest people on earth. Seriously. Find some if you can.
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