To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day

Christmas is always a time for reflection and a chance to indulge in a bit of melancholy.

But on a farm, chores still get done. So a couple of hours ago I got started while it was still dark.

This morning’s chores began with a cup of coffee, a list, a Christmas plate of blueberry pancakes with Steen’s syrup, and then I was out the door. Some goodies from the kitchen slop pail for the pigs in one hand and five gallons of old walnuts in the other. I headed first to the paddock in the woods to feed the new pigs.

Nineteen degrees this morning and they are burrowed deep in an old round bale of hay. A call or two and they stick their heads out. I bang the pail and they scurry to the trough, only about forty pounds each, yet they still put away an impressive amount of food. Emptying the food and walnuts into the trough, I break the water on their water tank, head out of the paddock and over to the barn.

All creatures are up this morning. The chickens thud off of their roost and into the run. The ducks are quacking incessantly and the garden hog is barking and running up and down his fence line. Above it all is the bleating of a barn load of sheep desperate to remind me they are hungry. Gradually, as I feed, the cacophony fades to just the sheep. And they grow quiet as I give them some grain and fresh hay.

At the front of the barn, I pause to look out at the scene. Smoke drifts up in the early dawn from a half dozen homes in the valley. The lights come on in the kitchen of Adrienne’s home down the hill. Where I shared a mug of gluhwein and dinner with her and her family on last night’s Christmas Eve.

The cistern is frozen over to a depth of a few inches. Using a hand sledge I bust up the ice and fill the various watering pails, sloshing the icy water on my pants. As I distribute where needed around the barnyard, I’m in a contemplative mood. Aware that my family is gathered together in my hometown and my partner is with her family in Florida.

Choices we make define our lives and often take years to become evident. This fact and this day remind me of bits of a favorite Christmas poem by Robert Louis Stevenson.

His Christmas at Sea, a poem of a man seeing but unable to reach the parents he left behind.

…. Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea; And O the wicked fool I seemed in every kind of way, to be here hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day.

…. And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me, as they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea; but all I could think of, in the darkness and the cold, was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.

Haul your ropes and have a merry Christmas,

Brian

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10 thoughts on “To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day

  1. Sorry we could not share this day with you, Cuzain. Family is so important and we realize this more as we mature…and sometimes even as we get older…:-). Enjoy the beauty of the land you are blessed to occupy and the company of the animals in your care for this is about all The Lord Jesus had upon his arrival. We were fortunate to see your family Monday. They are a crazy bunch and love like not many I know of.
    Merry Christmas, Brian!

  2. Your comments bring me back to my childhood since I was raised on a farm. My dad got up at 4 o’clock or even earlier chickens, pigs, cattle, etc on top of the mountain in Cumberland County. Great memories–you are a good writer. PS Prissy is getting better every day–very active and we love her. Merry Christmas to you and Cindy. We had our party with all our family last night. Good time with all of us together some had church some played hooky. Singing and eating we were all sop blessed Love Ellen

  3. From this rainy Alaska town, a very happy Christmas to you, and a wish for a blessed, bountiful, healthy and happy new year.
    Ann

  4. Wishing you a very Merry Christmas!

    I have been having these same thoughts this year … working in retail doesn’t help much with the Christmas spirit … I just wonder why people find it more interesting to shop than to spend time with their families … oh well …

    Hope you have a great New Year!

    • Yep, our willingness to spend money on a holiday means someone else has to work. I never quite get why some don’t make the connection.

  5. A nice column. I understand this mood perfectly and have begun calling it “the burden of the years.” As we age and as our parents and their generation exist the stage, the knowledge that we are now the torchbearers begins to weigh upon us. I have to admit that at times it is a bit much. But as you say the work must be done! and that is a good thing. To have good work to do and the ability to do it, perhaps that is all we can ask. I am thankful to have you and Cindy not only as compatriots in the farm work but also as an example. If I haven’t said thank you before, I say it now.

    Look forward to seeing you in the year ahead. All good wishes.

    P.S. I got a Still for Christmas!

    • Jim,
      Thanks for the reply. The idea of being the torchbearer is indeed a burden. Odd to think when that happened? But it has crept into my awareness the past few years as well. I refer to it as the “barrier” generation. As a kid you had the grandparents, parents as a barrier. Then as time went on it was just the parents and you. Now we are we are the ones on the old battlements, the last line and the bearer of a meager knowledge.
      A still, eh? We will look forward to that next celebration at Four O’clock Farm with even more anticipation.
      Cheers,
      Brian

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