Stoutville

The winds died down overnight, leaving the farm white, crisp, and cold. Temperatures were in the single digits as I passed out hay to the llama, sheep and horse.

On the radio, Jimmy Buffett sang "Margaritaville" and "Cheeseburger in Paradise," and I couldn't help but smile.

At this time of year, so many northerners head south for a warm breeze and sun. I may welcome that in another week or two. But for now, I'd miss the snow, and hanging out by the woodburning stove, and drinking the growler of stout my husband brought home just before the storm.

Today's goal includes reuniting the flocks.

Two hens and a rooster became separated from their flock when the storm hit. They ended up in in the sheep stall, and they act like they really enjoy the arrangement. I do not. Today, I'm clearing a path through the three-foot drift that separates them from the chicken house.

The llama and ram are reuniting with the ewes today. Our farm is designed for storms that come from the west. When a storm comes from the east, like this one did, the lean-to offers little protection and the sheep retreat to inside the barn. To free up space in the sheep stall, I moved the llama and ram to an empty horse stall.

As I do this, I imagine the dogs will be bouncing around in the snow, and Caeli, the herding dog, will be watching from her snow bunker.