I've Been Cooped Up Too Long!

I think it was Willa Cather who wrote about the harshness of the prairie being able to drive people to insanity. I trust I haven't gone that far(!), but three days of being snowed in has caused me to do things I normally would not. Take the chickens for instance. I normally avoid their house at all cost. Tonight I volunteered to not only enter, but to gather their eggs. For those of you dear readers used to purchasing your eggs in a carton off the grocery store shelf, let me assure you that they do indeed originate in a hen house. And, the hen house is full of clucking fowls who do not necessarily think you're doing them a service by taking away their eggs. I managed, but the worst of it was the rooster who felt the need to crow "Cock-a-doodle-do!" near my ear...repeatedly! It got so bad I found myself talking back to him. Seriously, who in the world talks to roosters? Perhaps someone who has been cooped up in the house too long :)?

I tromped from the hen house to the barn, to feed the cats and dog. Nothing too exciting there. Having been warned about the lethal, jumping cats who are presumably too lazy to hunt and thus have to literally attack the hand that feeds them, I tossed their food into the pan and ran. The dog enjoyed that! I guess if I had fur like hers I would spend my time trying to find friends to frolic in the snow with too.

The next adventure was the result of a bet. My brother Dan (I think in an effort to get me off the phone so he could continue to enjoy his solitude) told me he didn't think I could make it to the cement bridge and back. No one has been on our road in two days, so the only way to get to the bridge--a quarter of a mile away--was on foot. Never one to easily pass up a challenge, I set out. Just a few steps down the road I remembered a similar situation (a dare from my brothers)--when I ended up wet on the bottom of a lake :). Determined not to lose this one, I pressed on. The sky was clear and the road was quiet. It felt a bit like what I imagine walking on Mars must be like...craters, drifts, and desolation. And I'm sure anyone who may have come upon me would've wondered what world I'd originated from...wearing Mom's four-buckle overshoes, green insulated coveralls, and down coat, with a face mask covering all but my eyes, I was armed against the weather--and any fashion rules that may apply during the winter :)!

The walk was a beauty. Drifts feathered across the road. I plunged over, through, and on. At the bridge, I discovered snow had blown in to coat both banks of the creek. Thickly blanketed, they converged as one at the bottom, leaving only a small expanse on the west side where the water still ran. And right in the middle of the quiet water, sat a lone mallard duck. We surprised one another--each thinking we were alone in this evening--and enjoyed a quiet moment of acknowledging each other's existence before he floated on.

I turned homeward too, regretting that I had left my camera behind. Then again, with -21F wind chill fingers don't function well when exposed, and I'm sure it's not ideal weather for the camera either. I guess the images of my lone footprints in the snow will have to live in my memory alone...unless I go back out again tomorrow :)!

Three days of being 'stuck' on the farm. I'm thankful for a warm house, a well-stocked pantry, parents to talk to, and adventures to be had...as soon as I walk out the door :)!