On the radio this morning, they said there are two types of people, those that wake up to a blanket of snow with joy, and those that wish it gone. We have more than a flutter now, several inches and staying, with more to come at the end of the week, and having animals.. well.. I wish it gone!
Up and down the country people are having a ’snow day’, that is they find themselves unable to get into work, or their children’s school closed, so they are obliged to stay home to look after them. Of course, if it’s treacherous out there, then I can’t see what else is to be done. Sometimes it leads to resentment though – as workers struggle into work to find their colleagues who lived closer did not make it. Parents struggle to make childcare arrangements and businesses lose money.
I’m pleased to notice our local school stayed open. But for us, snow days don’t happen; - I work from home in the evenings, himself works from home half the time anyway, and so can arrange it on purpose and I home educate my son. Except that I did get a snow day today afterall, as my son was on a sleep over, and the icey conditions this morning meant he was not returned home until this afternoon.
I spent my time worrying about the livestock – because although the snow drifting down in silent floaty flakes was lovely, and the carpet of white so pretty.. it was cold, the hens are furious, the outdoor chick buried under his mother’s feathers and the sheep had nothing to eat, as the already sparse grass is under the snow.
They have their lick, I gave them some ewe nuts, and some hay, which they resolutely ignored.. it seems they have no intention of eating hay.., and I went and cut a few arm-fulls of ivy. I got cold and wet. After work, when everything had gone fairly slushy, himself went out and bought sugar beet feed, more hen food and some lamb jackets. The forecast is for heavier snow to come.
At least they have their own lovely thick woolly jumpers!
They’ll take a day or two to decide they want the hay. They have to get hungry enough. Our flock are used to snow, having never lived without it, but they always prefer to try to find grass after the first snowfall, rather than give in and eat the hay right away. Now, after two months of snow on the ground, they don’t even bother trying to dig through. They just spend their days munching hay happily enough.
I like to see the hay colors on the white snow. It’s a much more muted green, more of a olive color, than the bright green of real grass, but it’s still preserved sunshine, and a welcome rest for our eyes, which become attuned to monochrome.