Good Morning, Jennifer Lawrence!
Then there was the extreme sport of Ice Walking! The entire farm (which is a hillside, yay!) is covered with a sheet of ice. This is a gift from a nearly 60 degree day followed by a 70 degree temperature plummet within 36 hours. A foot of snow turned to slush, which turned to ice, which turned to the most agile walking seen on this farm since I moved in three years ago. Well, mostly agile. I did fall directly on my ample ass a few times with a force stronger and more violent than base gravity. I am now convinced that ice is the hardest substance on our planet. A shard of ice from my property could cut diamonds. That harshness combined with the swirling brown, greens, blacks, and yellows of various canine and avian dedications in various stages of melting and freezing creates quite the beautiful stratification. So at least when I crashed into a pile of ice I could appreciate the way a swoop of dog piss frozen around a perfectly round goose turd makes for a little natural art. Performance art if you count the falling, which I do. I mean, might as well enjoy the ride, right?
I woke up at 6:30 and within an hour and a half of opening my eyes I had managed to feed the horses, sheep, goats, pigs, rabbits, and poultry. I walked the dogs, fed the horrible cats, and even combed my hair. I did this last thing in case a neighbor stopped by to chat on their commute down the mountain so rumors in town about my feralness would be waylaid a little. Everyone had water (in a liquid state!), thanks to refilling headed troughs, broken ice, and carried buckets over a hellscape. Every animal had shelter, bedding, and besides a few frostbitten rooster combs -seemed okay. I know because most of the morning outside wasn't spent falling or working, but watching. I looked over horse to hen for signs of struggle or discomfort. Besides little Ida's shivering when coming out of her warm nest in the barn and into the sun for hay - no one seems to mind the cold. I checked on Italics, restarted the wood stove, carried in wood, made the bed, swept the floor of 12 hours accumulation of dust, hair, and dander, and last (but not least) got a percolator on The Hob for some serious and blessed coffee, which I am about to head downstairs now to enjoy. My breakfast these days is coffee with real cream. It carries me through until lunch or later without a problem. The human animal craves a lot of things, but mostly fat. While I am practicing a whole lot more moderation these days in the art of eating (mostly to keep up with my advanced training in Tae Kwon Do), I don't skimp on whitener for my coffee. I certainly use the calories and life is too short and too rich for skim milk. As the wonderful Jennifer Lawrence so eloquently said to her interviewer on her body's state of being:
"I can think of a lot of things that taste better than skinny feels. "
I raise my mug to you, Jennifer. Come hang out here anytime.