Mud and Miracles

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

This was the view out the front door three mornings ago.

Today it's mud. Everywhere.

It's too warm. Forty-five degrees in January? At 7,500 feet? It's gotten up to 49 a few days this month already. This is spring weather — and not even early spring.

I have to keep reminding myself that we've seen worse in recent years. In the waning days of 2008, we got a blizzard that dropped three feet, whereupon the temperature promptly descended well below zero for about three weeks. In January of 2009, we passed 60 and held. The village was nothing but a river of mud. It was so bad that they had to bring in heavy earth-moving equipment to deal with it. 

Climate change. It's here.

It's odd to see the dogs shedding by December. The horses are an absolute mess; where normally this time of year they'd be rolling snow, instead, they're rolling in mud. The chickens are so confused that they're molting and laying simultaneously. Good for us, because unlike last winter, there's no way we'll run out of eggs this time around, but they are a scraggly-looking lot right now.

Speaking of which, one of these days, I'll have to post some photos of our new dogs.

No, we haven't taken on more animals. But the ten younger chickens will now come running on command, just like a dog — and sometimes even with no command at all. Just in case, you know, I have food or anything. Yeah, like a dog. They, of course, are loving the mud; I don't think there's much that makes them happier. Well, except maybe the pork chop bone that one of the literally ripped out of the jaws of an astonished Raven yesterday. He'd normally take the head off anything that tried to steal his food, but he was stunned into near-catatonia. [Yes, I got his bone back from the little monster. Bloodthirsty beasts.]

There's an eleventh new dog, too. His name is Ice.

Yes, the horse. He's positively a puppy now: The moment I come outdoors, his eyes are glued on mine, no matter what he's doing. Unlike most horses, he'll stare you right in the eye for minutes at a time (well, in mine, anyway). Half the time, I don't even have to call him; he just tags at my heels. Like a puppy. A thousand-pound puppy.

I think I'll wait on the pix of him, though, at least until the next snow. He's not very white right now; more muddy gray-brown. Miskwaki's much the same, although the mud only really shows on his white patches. he and Ice have reached an uneasy truce, and are now making their first tentative forays into play, although there's a competitive edge to it courtesy of the mares, who so clearly need impressing. Adolescents, all of 'em.

Next storm is slated for Wednesday. We'll see how much of the mud dries between now and then. 

Oh, and my neck doesn't feel quite so much like it's been possessed by Linda Blair today. I'd call that a miracle.






All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.