Snow Day

From the Heartland, Margot McMillen writes: Under normal circumstances, a 10-inch snow would just mean a holiday for me and the old man. We’d just sit by the fire and google, or I’d catch up on some sewing or reading and he’d play the fiddle. We can entertain ourselves for a week that way. So much so that the neighbors will start to worry and someone will hook up the plow and dig us out, no matter how much we insist that we’re having a fine time. But this week, we have a ton of stuff on the calendar, all of it in town where the plowing has been done. So, yesterday, we bent ourselves to catching up on chores. First, we moved a new big bale of hay in with the mama sheep. I told Marshall to put it as close to the barn as possible, and he managed to get it right at the doorway so they don’t even have to take a step to get it. Unfortunately, while we were doing that, Cappy, one of the donkeys snuck out the open gate. He made his way along the ruts that the tractor tires had made quite happily, got to the spot where the hay had been and found some green grass in the muddy patch. He was delighted with his find and didn’t want to come back, munch, munch. Which meant that we needed to close the gate to the road…Quick!!! Nothing more dangerous than a critter on an icey road. Marshall torqued it to the gate, as much torque as our old tractor can muster, and closed it, then started back to pick up the snowblade to blade the driveway. The blade was frozen solid to the ground and—did I mention that he has a hurt hand, his bowing hand and not his noter, but still… So I persuaded him not to use the blade, but just to run up and down the drive and mash it down with the tires. While I fetched Cappy, who had discovered that the snow was almost up to his belly and he had to lift his feet very high to make progress. He was way off by the hen house. I was afraid he’d wear himself out and then we’d have a situation. I also had to lift my feet very high to make progress, so we were in slow motion, both of us, me with the halter and rope, and didn’t notice that while I was doing that, Marshall was inventing something. He had found a hank of rope and a long black oak log, maybe 8 feet long. He lashed the log so it dragged behind the tractor and started towing it, widthwise, up and down the driveway. Where it dragged, it left a mashed down path. It was brilliant! Meanwhile, I’ve gotten to the donkey and put the halter on him and was trying to figure the shortest way back to the barn. There isn’t one. But Cappy was, by this time, willing to end his adventure and follow me. “Twas the night before Christmas,” I started chanting to amuse him, “And all through the house…” I think I got through all the words pretty well, except some of the reindeer names. Anyway, the rhythm of it kept us both distracted on the long walk. Yes, I know it’s February and months away from Christmas, but what’s a calendar to a donkey?