Jonas visited and left us with a modest snowfall, cold weather and, for myself, a cold. So I leave you today with a poem by Robert Frost and a photo from our farm.
A Patch of Old Snow
There’s a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I’ve forgotten-
The ornamental fishpond in winter.
If I ever read it.
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An old country saying goes like this…snow that hangs around is waiting for more snow, which was certainly true for the Grainger County area last week. So be glad your old snow is paper. You’ve probably had enough snow for awhile.
Harriet,
Just to be clear, the poem is by Mr. Frost. We only picked up an inch from the storm, although we had a few inches earlier in the week. Just cold and misery. I imagine your totals were quite different.
Hope you and Harold are safe and warm. I know you have enough meat in your freezer, sans beef. BTW your steer is looking good.
Cheers,
Get better young man. The chores won’t do themselves.
Your compassion underwhelms, my friend. 🙂 Yeah, had to stack a load of square bales earlier and felt a bit exhausted. This too shall pass.
Underwhelms? Accurate I suppose, but what might I do from this distance? I suppose a recipe for chicken soup… but what is the expression – coals to Newcastle?
I love that phrase. Nah, nothing to do my friend but push on through it. I had to shovel 1500 pounds of hog feed into barrels this evening by hand. Feeling better already.