I learned early on here that the farm is everything, the farm comes first. The thermometer hit – 28 at 4 a.m. and I got up and came downstairs to check on the farmhouse. I put some more wood in the stove where Frieda was sleeping. I lay down next to her and she put her head on my shoulder. I turned the hot water faucets on in the bathroom and kitchen. I put my boots on and went outside to check on the barn, and the waterer for the donkeys and cats. It was so still and dark and very beautiful. That kind of cold changes matter and light.
I love the old farmhouse. It was build in 1861 and it has weathered so many storms of so many kinds, and I trust it, but still, want to help it along a bit. The sun is out and I see the animal all know how to position themselves to soak up the sun reflecting off of the snow.
The air was sharp and I took a deep breath and felt the cold all the way through my lungs.
The Library tour is on. No more watching the weather, it doesn’t really matter what they say and we’ll just take it day by day. Herman, my scary voice in the night, thought I should cancel. Possible storm on Wednesday. Lot of driving. The farm is kind of a mess with so much snow and ice. Not right to leave it. Herman, I said. Go back to New Jersey. You are just too much of a puss, all around. You should live in a bubble and get tested every other hour. He didn’t go outside with me when I went to check on the barn.
When I came back, he was gone.
