Tag: winter
Sunday Muse
Stout-hearted bird,
When thy blithe note I heard
From out the wind-warped tree—
Chick-a-dee-dee–
There came to me
A sense of triumph, an exultant breath
A sense of triumph, an exultant breath
Blown in the face of death.
For what are harsh and bitter circumstances
When the heart dances,
And pipes to rattling branch and icy lea
Chick-a-dee-dee!
Chick-a-dee-dee!
Sing loud, sing loud,
Against that leaden cloud,
That draggeth drearily,
Chick-a-dee-dee.
Pour out thy free
Pour out thy free
Defiance to the sharpest winds that blow
And still increasing snow.
By courage, faith, and joy art thou attended,
And most befriended
By thine own heart, that bubbleth cheerily,
By thine own heart, that bubbleth cheerily,
Chick-a-dee-dee!
“The Chickadee” by Ethelwyn Wetherald
Sheep Camouflage Sam
During this milder weather, Samson is enjoying snuggling in with Liam’s breeding group… ignoring the shelters… even forgoing his beloved dog house which is finally out of the snow cover.
Liam (he looks so majestic), Blackberry and Samson
Snow Curtain
The sun and wind over the weekend created this fabulous snow curtain over the window on the guinea coop. We were able to enjoy it for a couple days before it gave way to the elements.
There is still about 6 inches of snow in the pastures. We are really hoping that the weather stays mild the rest of the week and some bare ground reappears. Hopefully by Saturday we will be able to move sheep and fix fences so everybody will stay where they are supposed to be. Morning feeding has become quite the adventure.
Word for the Day
S-L-U-S-H… slush… and uhhh, maybe S-L-O-P
Sunny Hillsides
top of the fenceline, bottom right corner, bottom photo
Sunday Muse
The landscape covered with snow, seen by moonlight from these Cliffs, encased in snowy armor two feet thick, gleaming in the moon and of spotless white. Who can believe that this is the habitable globe? The scenery is wholly arctic… Man must have ascertained the limits of the winter before he ventured to withstand it and not migrate with the birds. No cultivated field, no house, no candle. All is as dreary as the shores of the Frozen Ocean. I can tell where there is wood and where open land for many miles in the horizon by the darkness of the former and whiteness of the latter. The trees, especially the young oaks covered with leaves, stand out distinctly in this bright light from contrast with the snow. It looks as if the snow and ice of the arctic world, traveling like a glacier, had crept down southward and overwhelmed and buried New England. And see if a man can think his summer thoughts now. But the evening star is preparing to set, and I will return. Floundering through snow, sometimes up to my middle
— Henry David Thoreau’s journal, 1852
Looking Up
Looking up… branching out
Happy Trails
The sheep have created many, little, happy trails through the many feet of snow – trails to the feeder… trails to the watering trough… small bowl-shaped areas semi-protected by the wind…
These trails are very narrow… one-lane really… and throughout the day this results in many traffic jams like the one above. We have been following these happy trails also and have discovered that one small bump by an impatient sheep results in a struggle through thigh to hip high snow to either side.
Snow Dogs
