As our girls have grown older and more capable, J and I have gotten into the habit of letting them play independently in the mornings. No longer do we launch ourselves out of the covers at whatever ungodly hour they begin to wail. Instead, we stay snuggled in, sometimes with little legs and arms tangled among us, and sometimes just listening to big imaginations running wild in the reading nook or down in the living room until we either need to be up or someone comes to plead for breakfast – 6:30 or 7am on average. On one hand, it’s nice to feel somewhat autonomous again; on the other, I have a vague sense of irresponsibility for leaving them to their own devices.

I helped the girls get dressed, and sat with them as they ate leftover pancakes I’d frozen after a breakfast-for-dinner. J needed a haircut so he managed the nursery school run, taking Swee with him. Off they went, and my coffee and I sat down to answer some email before doing chores. Wood in the stove, scrubs in the dryer, feet in my boots to open the coop.

The chickens were glad to see me today. They came tumbling out the door as soon as I lifted it, pushing and shoving to get at the bits of salad and sandwich crust and apple peel I’d brought to them. Pretty Boy crowed over and over, his frostbitten comb trembling with the effort. He’s a sorry sight to see, and I feel badly that we couldn’t do more for him, but he otherwise doesn’t seem much worse for the wear. I emptied the ash bucket over the section of the run not protected by the overhang, just to give them all more space to move. Silly birds won’t walk on the white stuff, but at least they’re laying more: two eggs today, and yesterday, and the day before.

And then I went for a short walk up the road. Our driveway is a sheet of glass under this new dusting, but once you’re out on the dirt, there’s plenty of traction. I walked past the empty cornfields, not yet crisscrossed with snowmobile tracks, and past several quiet houses. A neighbor we’ve not yet met raised one hand in a country salute as he cleared his front path with the snowblower. I turned around at the white mailbox, just before the road goes downhill and headed back into the morning sun, unzipping my coat and losing the hat on the way. Time for breakfast.

I’ve stopped simply admiring our food stores, and have started actually eating them. Groundbreaking, I know. I worked so hard at tucking things away “for winter,” and somewhere around the third or fourth snowfall, it hit me that it is now “winter” and yes, we can eat these yummy stores! We’ve been working away at the half a pig downstairs, but hadn’t broken into the frozen fruits or jars of preserved goodies. No more! I’ve got a bag of peaches that may wind up as cobbler this weekend, and when I transfer the next load of laundry, a jug of cider is coming up too. Time to enjoy the literal fruits of our labor!

We’re still here!

In the end, it was just a big, noisy snowstorm, but it was a little disconcerting to look out the window when we were in the thick of it. It was a mess of swirling whiteness. The wind was howling so loudly, I couldn’t hear the snowblower going up and down the driveway as J attempted to get a jump on the cleanup. It got worse as it started to get dark, because then we really couldn’t see anything and were left just listening to the creaks and groans as the house and surrounding trees took a beating. The power flickered once in the late afternoon, but never went out completely. I am so grateful for that. The girls did lots of painting at the dinner table, and after bedtime, I sat down and sorted my seeds by the fire. Because what else do you do during a snowstorm but dream of warmer days to come?

It’s cold out there today: a flat 0*F right now with a “feels like” of -18*. Tomorrow will be worse with a high of -2*, but we’ll be back up into the 20s and 30s next week. I can’t really tell how much snow we got because it was blowing around in great clouds, but there is certainly plenty of it.

The flock hung out in the shed today. We didn’t even open the door to their run, and instead opened the main door of their coop so they could wander around inside. It means some cleanup for us next week, but it shouldn’t be too bad to scoop once it’s frozen. I went out to visit them and they came running when I shook the scratch bucket, happy to see the hand that feeds. I shared on Instagram the other day that we’ve welcomed seven new ladies into our little flock, bringing the grand total to sixteen chickens: fourteen layers and two roosters. A friend of ours found that she was too busy to give them the attention she felt they deserved, and we definitely have the space – we actually had too much space for the number of birds we had, and they were cold at night – so they came to live with us on New Year’s Eve Eve. We’ve now got four new Barred Rocks, with Biggie making five, and three new Araucaunas (light blue-green eggs!) to go with our three Golden Comets, one Australorp, and four Salmon Faverolles. It’s definitely a mixed flock. I’d be excited for some “barnyard mutt” baby chicks this spring, but my bigger girls don’t take any crap from the roosters, despite the fellas’ advances. I think we’ll still add half a dozen chicks this year to refresh the laying population, and J has been brainstorming a design for a basement brooder box. It’s almost time to start building!

More than a foot of snow fell on Christmas morning, light and fluffy, coming down in an officially-declared blizzard. Our girls slept til 7am, to our amazement, and we took our time around the tree, pausing to have hashbrown casserole and fruit salad before heading back to our gifts. I didn’t even take many pictures, capturing only the joy on a big sister’s face as little sister opened her handmade bauble. The sun came out in time to welcome our family for dinner: my aunt and uncle were in from Phoenix, making the snow that much more of an experience.

And from there, our break is a bit of a blur. There was a lot of playing with new toys and games, a lot of lounging on the couch, and a lot of being close and getting cozy. I haven’t seen the thermometer make it into the double digits in…a while. Our days melted together, stocking the woodstove and refilling the chicken’s water bowl. My office was closed all week, and I didn’t check my work email, not at all. I even managed to avoid the grocery store for ten whole days. I felt a deep need to just rest, and so I did, going so far as to doze on the couch while the girls played around me. I’m not sure if I was coming down with something, or really just recovering from a very intense year. Definitely the latter; maybe both.

I feel lighter today, awake, though moving slowly. We’re easing into the freshness of a new year and a blank slate. It was still too cold to spend much time outside, though warmer than it has been at a full 9* with no wind. We bundled up, and then trudged down to the tiniest tree in our lower orchard to decorate it for the deer and other critters. I’ve been meaning to do this with the girls for weeks now, ever since reading Night Tree. We made the birdseed treats as gifts, and then my mom strung the popcorn and cranberries with them this weekend (while J and I went snowmobiling with the neighbors – my first experience!). The snow has a crust of ice about 6″ below the surface, strong enough to hold you for several steps but giving way when you least expect it. When you’re only three and your legs are still little, that means you fall down a lot. Not the most fun trip out in the snow, and we didn’t last very long in the yard. But the sun was shining on the back porch, and it was fairly pleasant to play in the protection of the house, so we got some fresh air and vitamin D late this afternoon.

I’ve been watching as Instagram fills with Best Nine collages and Words of the Year, reading as people share their resolutions, intentions, what have you. Wondering if I will do the same, and thinking that the answer is no. That just doesn’t feel authentic for me this time around the sun. I have a few personal thoughts for my personal journal, and they’re too personal to share here, but beyond that, I think I will just keep doing the next right thing. A year is so long, and so much can change. I will just try my best to do the next right thing, whenever and whatever that may be.

Wishing you rest and courage for that which you may be facing in the days ahead, and strength to do your own next right thing.