A Mighty Blow, With Snow

We are having a full-fledged blizzard. It's been awhile since we've had the combination of light, airy snow and strong winds. I can't see anything but white beyond the spruce. There are areas where it has drifted so that the snow is up around Mark's thigh. Mark always thinks of the dogs, so short stuff, aka Howard, can get out via the path Mark shoveled for him.

The weather makes me want soup, so I put together a vegetable/bean/barley soup for lunch. It was good, even if I do say so myself. I used some of the frozen zucchini from my garden, now a distant memory.

This is what a screen looks like when it is cold and snowy. When warm and full of good food, it is easy to find beauty in something so harsh. The dogs, horses and people on the farm are snuggly holed up inside. The very elderly barn cat, Lucy, has her mound of hay in the loft that she burrows into to keep  warm. She must be a very smart cat, as she is as old as Margaret and has lived her entire life in the barn. Those kitties rarely reach a geriatric age.

We are in for some severe weather over the next couple of days. We will all be trapped inside until the deepfreeze breaks its hold. Of course, there are the trips to the barn, but they hardly count. Except at the moment when my face nearly cracks open as I walk up the incline to the house, full on into the deeply below zero wind. Ah, my. You've gotta love it. So we Minnesotans talk about how hardy we are, instead of openly admitting someone, somewhere along the way, made a terrible mistake settling this land. They must have come here in June or September, because those are the only two months that I could understand someone thinking it would be a good idea to live in a cabin, wind whistling through the chinks, with nothing but a fire to warm the place.

It is strangely beautiful. From the warmth of the house.