Snow. It’s coming, and yeah, I know that I shouldn’t complain (condolences to Buffalo), but still.
This weekend, we got out our mittens, hats, scarves, and winter coats. My kids think I’m jumping the gun and blame a book I read years ago called The Children’s Blizzard (because of that book my kids CAN NOT leave the house in the winter without mittens or a pair of gloves.)
But it’s more like I saw this in Vermont when I went to pick up my son at Norwich on Friday. Yes, I know Vermont is to the north of us and that his school is situated between mountains.
But I’d be a fool to think that the snow is not making its way to our neighborhood. It is, it’s just a matter of time.
And while the first few snowstorms ignite a certain amount of childhood magic (especially in the most curmudgeoned adult) it’s the storms that continue into January, February, March, and sometimes even May that take a toll on even the seasoned spirits.
Blankets are out, the coop has been inspected – cracks have been covered up, and the flock’s water heater is up and running. Emergency kits have been placed in each of the cars (blanket, Spare mittens, an extra ice scraper, clay pot, candle+ matches, granola bars.) We still need to find our boots and see which ones need to be replaced, but we’re well on our way to being ready.
Go ahead, bring it on.
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
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