Missouri « Robin Writes

Most people, in mid-December, are counting the days until Christmas. Not me. Only 97 days until SPRING!

I do not like cold weather. Period. You know that meme that says “I’m not going outside until the temperature is above my age? Yep, I could have originated that.

The problem is that once I get cold—to the bone, frozen, chilled—it takes forever to warm up again.

Whiskey helps.

Everyone has heard, of course, how to layer clothing. I start with what used to be called long underwear but is now referred to as “base layers.” Whatever. I do like the silk ones, though, and they aren’t as bulky as the old style. So I start there, and add a thermal shirt, a t-shirt, and a flannel shirt. Plus, when I go outside, I put on my amazing new Carhartt coat and snazzy deerskin (with Thinsulate) gloves.

Oh yeah, and pants. Always pants. Two layers. I’m also partial to wool moisture-wicking socks, thick ones.

My husband brought home some ski gloves for me last week. They’re a bit too big, but very warm; I can’t, however, do any chores that require gripping things, like hay bales or lead ropes. That could make for a sticky situation . . . or not, as the case may be.

And yes, I wear all but the coat and gloves (and earmuffs and scarf) inside too. I really hate to change clothes once I’m dressed.

Chant with me: 97 days! 97 days!

I’ve mentioned that we use wood heat. Mostly. We’re getting the hang of it now—last night it ran until about 2:00 a.m., I think. We also discovered a neat trick:

When the fire is going really well and is very, very hot and the blower still hasn’t kicked on, if you smack it just right, it’ll start up. Who knew?

Point is, this morning it was all the way up to 60 degrees in the bedroom when we got up!

Yes, we use some electric heat, particularly in the morning before the furnace kicks on. And I generally keep a space heater under my desk during the day because, in spite of the open floor plan, there is a large chunk of wall and some 20 feet between me and the vent.

I do, however, sit right next to a bank of windows. Chilly sometimes, but most of them are sheltered by a deep covered deck area, and when the sun is out, it’s quite toasty.

Sun is the thing I really miss during the winter. That weatherman is a liar. Or he’s too dumb to tell the difference between “cloudy” and “sunny.” Jerk.

If the sun is out, I’m good outside down in the 30s; if it’s cloudy, all I want to do is sleep.

Speaking of, on a homestead, you don’t get to do that. Good thing I never did—Dad’s rule was up and dressed and breakfast eaten by 9:00 a.m. And he was being generous. My friends all got to “sleep in” until noon or lie around in bed.

Some of them still do . . .

I don’t get it. On any given morning, we have to start the coffee, build a fire, feed two cats and one small dog who are all dancing under our feet, and then take one outside—where we watch her pick the right spot and it takes FOREVER.

Then our horsey visitor is whinnying for her breakfast.

If you’ve ever wondered how your day will go when SHTF, it will NOT involve staying in bed!

If you have a homestead, you already know all the work that happens on a daily basis. If you plan to move in with someone who has a homestead—and they’re expecting you—rest assured that you’ll be feeding livestock, working in the greenhouse or garden, making repairs, helping out the neighbors, cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood, cooking over a fire, and so forth.

If you’re planning to remain where you are and you’ve stocked up, you’re still going to have keep warm, find or grow food, and do most of the things you do now but without the conveniences currently in place. Try it sometime, say, over a weekend for a day or two. No appliance use, no electronics, no electricity or natural gas. Minimal errands. Make do with what you have on hand. Try it. I dare you.

And if you ARE prepared, eventually those preps are going to run out when it comes down to it. You have to be able to replenish and restock. Evaluate where you are, both physical location and preparedness, and set some goals now, today.

And keep warm. Only 97 days to spring!

Late yesterday morning, I received pictures of our new horses! In case you haven’t seen them, here they are:

I spent the rest of that day basically jumping around the house; it’s a good thing almost all my work was done for the day! Well, except for the finishing touches:

And of course, the neverending saga of putting additional screws in the fence. Thankfully, the sun finally came out around 2:30. More or less.

My assortment of halters, ropes, and, inexplicably, a book called “The Backyard Cow,” arrived mostly unscathed, and this weekend we’re taking delivery of 50 or so bales of hay.

A lot of work? Yes. Cold? Yes.

But not nearly as cold as the weather in South Dakota, where the horses are coming from . . .

I’ll write more on Friday, but my horses are coming from a rescue that’s under court order to adopt out a certain percentage of the herd. The deadline to apply was November 30, which was about two weeks after I first heard about it.

The remaining horses are going to auction December 19-20, and yes, some will likely be sold to kill buyers. Again, more about this on Friday.

Now, I jumped at the chance to own a couple wild mustangs—come on, who wouldn’t? But I’m also rather practical. Most of the time. Okay, some of the time. But our intentions were always, once we moved out here, to get a couple horses.

I don’t think this is exactly what my husband had in mind . . .

Those of you who came out about a month after we closed on the farm will surely be wondering what the heck is wrong with us—the place was a wreck before you all came out and helped with clean-up. And we’ve done a few things since then.

We’ve been seeding the pasture area, spring and fall, and we’d always planned to put in the fence this year when the weather turned a bit cooler from those nearly-forgotten summer temps. We stepped up the timetable a bit after agreeing to work with a neighbor’s horse, and having her live here for a while during training, but neither he nor we were in a rush.

Then I saw the adoption site.

And here’s the problem—a lot of folks think, “Wow, free horses!” and they’re off and running. Sure, I thought that too, but 1) I have space and 2) I have facilities for horses and 3) I can afford to pay for transport, feed, vet, farrier, etc. And, well, 4) I have experience and quite a collection of tack and tools gathered over the years.

But some of these adopters, gosh, I really wonder if they know what they’re getting into. Some are sending their adoptees to be boarded; some, at least on social media, indicate little knowledge or experience; some can’t afford the hauling fees—how can they afford to board or feed the animals?

I understand that they’re saving the horses from a kill pen, but still . . . On the other hand, those in charge of approving adoptions presumably went over the applications and did give approval. So perhaps all is well.

I only know that were things we had to do before the arrival of our pair, and yes, we’re doing them. Probably will even be finished days before they arrive. Really, we only moved up the date, not the purpose.

In a nutshell, these horses are coming to a home where they’ll have plenty of hay and grain, shelter, vet care, and their very own people—none of which they had in South Dakota.