We’re expecting a snowstorm tonight and another immediately following. Somehow, this does not amount to expecting a snow day. How-how-how can two separate snowstorms in one night not result in my spending my tomorrow in jammies, kneading whole wheat dough?
When I’m at home during daylight hours, every two hours I pour a pot of boiling water over a frozen water dispenser for the chickens and give them treats. They reward me with a few eggs and standing at the other side of the run, pretending we’ve never met. It is winter, after all. The chickens have wild ideas about me. Why can’t I fix this wet stuff falling from the sky, with a roof over the run perhaps? It’s hard to look at this and not think, “Since I can manipulate their weather, I should make it spring already. Where’s my tanning lotion?”