~:: The Iceman Cometh ::~

Once upon a time, it snowed.  Remember this cute little snow?

Then it snowed again.  This time with far more serious intent.

This was only the beginning – it continued to snow for another several hours.

Four hours later,  rain started falling, taking down most of almost a foot and a half of snow.  The arena turned into a swamp (don’t believe me?  Try wearing boots and walking across it.  HA!).  Then, two nights ago, another storm swept in.  The sky glowed amber all night, and our room was as bright as early morning, all night long as the stuff fell hard and fast.

Yesterday, it sleeted all day, heavy, water laden snow.  It was 36 degrees F. Miserable.  Frozen but not frozen.  Tucker jumped the fence and by the time Chaz and I found him, we were both soaked to the skin.  But at least, when I walked the perimeter of the yard (shivering, and with a wary eye on the strained branches of the trees), I tracked Tucker, looking for disturbed snow on fence ridges and paw prints so we could plug the puppy-leak.

Then it was last night.  Below freezing.  This morning, the suburban was utterly iced shut.  I was afraid the battery was gone; one of the doors had been ajar all night and the wireless key wouldn’t work.  Normal  manual keys wouldn’t turn in the door locks.  Murphy jammed the frozen-adjar door closed again, but we still couldn’t work the key in it.

I ended up using the wireless to open the very back.  Then I (in mucky boots, lined over-alls and heavy barn coat) had to clamber over both (tall) back seats into the front and force the driver’s side door open from the inside.  After that, I got out and tried to de-ice the glass (impossible).  I drove through empty streets peering through one small clear bit of windshield.  Four wheel drive.

The storm had blown into the barn from the open south west.  South.  West.  Both supposed to be warm directions.  Hay stack covered with snow.  As were gloves and tools and buckets.  The water is frozen solid.  The bale I opened was one of the few that had been packed wet in the summer and was full of mold.  Luckily, moldy hay is great to bind the mud and give grit to tires on frozen drives.

The horses were frozen – wet, mad, impatient.  Zion kept popping up and kicking randomly with both back feet, just out of misery (horse swearing and whining).  My hands were aching and stinging after ten minutes of shoveling and swiping snow from hay bales.  I had to keep my eyes on those unhappy flying hooves.

Depressed horse.  If I could take him home and let him warm up in front of the fire, I would.

M spent the morning digging out neighbors.  When I got home, he went back to the barn with me to re-stock the empty grain bins.  Then we tried futilely to dig out the water.  Once again home, we tried futilely to dig out his car.

May I just say that my Toyota Highlander with the on-demand four wheel is a FABULOUS little car?  Handles the half frozen snow like it’s nothing.  The Suburban is a monster, too.  But the small cars are trapped.

Have I even mentioned how much I hate winter?  It’s supposed to snow more over the next two days. Tonight, the low will be 12 degrees F.  Tomorrow the high is 18.  Tomorrow night will be 2 degrees.  Which is good news; last night, they predicted -6 degrees for Friday night.  South Africa, I dream of you.

And it’s not even January yet.

The big question is—what will happen to us when all of this finally thaws out?