It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas here at the Chicken Ranch. Yesterdays blizzard of snow and 55-60 mile per hour winds, left trees and ground alike in a cotton covered blanket of white. Cedar and pine trees have green needled limbs that are frosted with cake icing layers of snow. The branches bow under the weight, but bear their snowy burden gracefully. Pond banks are bounded by drifts that taper down to the glassy edges of the frozen water. I notice tracks from a small critter who came for a drink and left disappointed. Snow will have to slake his thirst today.
The wind that brought snow with the howl of a freight train, has now subsided, and the late afternoon is still. I love the way snow muffles sound and covers ground to create an atmosphere of peace. I am sorry to disturb the quiet by crunching my boots forward of me as I walk to feed the chickens. The muffled crunching sound as I walk alerts a squirrel, that jumps from a limb above me, and sends a powdery shower to my cowboy hat and the ground below. I think squirrels must have a sense of humor.
The chickens mill around close to their house, where the wind has whipped much of the snow away. Each of the hens wait for the grain to be thrown to them, and then scurry excitedly for their portion. I check for eggs and find few today. The cold has slowed production, as much as the reduced sunlight that comes with winter months. They could stand the rest, after all, spring and full production will come again.
Our dog Hershey plows through the snow, churning up powder as he turns, runs and jumps. His dark brown body is a stark contrast to pure white snow. He has a white dusting upon him by the time he explores the nearby woods, and follows a rabbits trail. I give him a short whistle and he runs back home excitedly, and gulps down his food. After I finish my chores, I turn up my collar, pull on my leather gloves, and head to the shed for another armload of firewood.
The sun has long set, and the stars are brightly twinkling through the clear canopy of cold night air. “All is calm, all is bright” I hum to myself. As I step on to the back porch and kick the snow from my boots, I look over at the cedar tree that my grandson Karter and I wrapped in lights for the holidays. The wind stirs the branches a little, and the snow reflects the multi-colored light over the tree and to the surface below.
Yes, it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas. And feels like it too. I head inside and hang my hat over the peg on the mud room wall. I think it's time for a cup of hot chocolate in front of the cracklin' fire. And then... a long winters nap.
Merry Christmas to you, everyone. And as Bing Crosby once sang so beautifully, “May your days be merry and bright…and may all your Christmases… be white.”
