a pleasant, snowy day

Winter, which has been lurking around for a week or two in the form of below normal temperatures and arctic winds, caught me by surprise this morning.

There's been snow and ice around for a week of so now: last Thursday I had to rescue half a dozen roosters from the trees when they were caught off guard by a sudden snow-squall - I hadn't considered that my spring chickens likely hadn't seen snow before.

But I did not expect to wake up to several inches of white. Previous snowfall amounted to little more than a skiff: what we have on our hands is a genuine blanket.

Our recently acquired llamas apparently shared my emotions on the subject - when I tramped out to the barn they looked mildly surprised but willing to regard the occasion philosophically.

I can't say I mind the snow, but I guess not everyone shares that opinion: Co-workers met in the hallway struggle to hide their disgust when I suggest the snow is, perhaps, not all that bad; other teachers' faces tell me they think the new guy is out of his mind.

Truth be told, I'm getting used to people thinking I'm nuts. I've begun to think it comes with the territory.

Because it would seem there aren't a whole lot of people who do what I do: high school English teacher / evening, weekend, and holiday farmer is sort of a specialized line of work; cattle, goat, llama and chicken raising appeals to only a select few; recreational bagpiping also does little to improve the image.

But I ask you, dear reader, does living that way sound crazy?

I'd like to think that it doesn't: I'd like to think that you're reading this because you're vaguely interested and maybe even agree with me from time to time. One hopes you're not here because you want to see what the neighbourhood nutcase is up to now.

As time goes on, as I become more involved in the farm or add to the barnyard family I feel like I'm getting a little bit closer to the life I want to live.

If that sounds crazy to you, dear reader, take heart. I'm a hundred miles from civilization: from here it's hard to do any of you harm.

Regards from Alberta's brush plain.