It is easy enough to love a farm on a summer evening, the breeze bending the tall grass in the pasture, the animals out grazing, finding their own food. It is not so easy on a gloomy and misty winter morning, the ground covered in ice and slush, fog and mist hovering like a blanket. Still, there is beauty and routine and rythm to a farm, even on a gloomy day. Red in his vigilant crouch, Maria shoveling out the manure in the barn, the sheep at their feeder, the donkeys at theirs. A symmetry, beautiful to see also.