adventures in sturdy womanhood...

Due to some out of the ordinary circumstances, I've

been home alone a lot in the past few days.

While it's hard to get lonely with so much furry company about,

it can get a little overwhelming trying to keep everybody

warm, fed, and cared for. 

Especially with five inches of lovely snow.

It has been awhile since I've had to throw haybales from the loft

and carry steaming buckets of water to chickens...

When my goats left last year, I guess I was kind of 

retired from the heavy duty barn-chores;

but it has come back in all its glory this past week.

Well, except milking goats in the sub-zero temps.

It has definitely been an adventure in sturdy womanhood;

and I can't say I mind that.

The kitties don't get fed until the evening,

but I found Favorite outside enjoying the snow this morning.

And licking his chops...?...

Busted. We knew he didn't get so roly-poly on his normal rations.

Of course the sheep are always happy to see us;

especially if we have an arm load of hay.

You just have to love the steam coming out of their little noses. 

There's something charming about sheep silhouettes with 

a snowy forest back-drop.

Or maybe that's just me...

The cow-boys aren't as endearing;

but they sure do eat a lot.

This is the part where a peaceful morning of chores took

an unsettling turn...

I hate to admit it, but I knew that there was a monster in the 

old goat barn yesterday. Spencer found him and told me all about it...

The brave little guy sat out there and yodeled at it for 

a good three hours yesterday afternoon.

Which was fine by me, since it seemed to help his cabin fever;

and I guess I kind of hoped it would go away after that.
I definitely would have.
(Spencer has a set of pipes...)

Well, the monster (another opossum to be exact)
decided to stay anyways and 

committed a dastardly deed in the night.

Out of all our dear little chickies and chicken mommas from this

past Summer, only one lone chickie had survived being

murdered by the horde of 'possums we were infested with.

Dad had courageously terminated every last one of them,

or so we thought,

until this character showed up yesterday afternoon.

And ate the last chickie.

I was so filled with horror and indignation,

I was ready to dispatch him with a pitch fork then and there,

where he was barricaded in the hay bin with what was left 

of poor little chickie.

But after listening to him hiss like a snake and howl like

a bewitched hyena all at once -

and picturing him clawing my face off;

I thought better of it.

So I set off to get the pistol;

but, then I thought better of that too.

So I compromised and set the 'possum trap.

It's a comfort to have three such brave and courageous

dogs around to watch my back.

Huck was just awaiting the word to go take care

of Mr. 'Possum.

They'd do anything they could for me;

I just love that about my dogs.

But we all know that sometimes patience and self control is the 

sturdiest thing yet - so we're waiting this thing out.

Mr. 'Possum will answer for his past when Dad gets home today.

In the meantime,

I think I'll make yet another trip to the woodshed for more wood,

and then maybe make a cup of tea with honey and cream.

We've had enough adventure and mayhem for one day.