The North Wind Shall Blow

.There is a blizzard blowing outside our little house. The first real snow of the season, and it has decided to all fall in one fell swoop.  It has been a lovely, fat snowflake sort of snow so far, but it is set to pick up rather fiercely in the night. This is our third winter here, the second with the animals.  I have stopped the with the awestruck giggles, the feeling of feeling like a character plucked out of one storyline and plopped into another.  The fake farmer feeling has mostly worn away. We are still quite green, and have much more to learn, but we are in this whole hog. I don't panic when the goats seem out of sorts, but I notice when they are restless before a storm. It is subtle, but they talk to me in their own way. And I know how to listen. I know to expect things too. I know to check the hens that roost on the old ladder, because they are stubborn enough to sleep exposed to the storm. I find them there, fluffy butts dusted with snow.  I grab the three remaining ducks, and quite literally stuff them into their shelter, not once, but three times before they realize that is where they'd rather be.  I moved their shelter today. They still hadn't found it ten feet from where it sat this morning.  The rabbits  are really the only ones stirring in the night, so they each get a fresh bowl of water (the other has frozen solid) and a pile of hay. I stomp the snow off my boots ,and step back inside. I take off the worn, too big, army green overcoat I've commandeered from my husband; now my 'barn coat'. Grateful for new boots just in time; warm, dry feet make all the difference!  My trusty headlamp gets tucked back into my coat pocket, so as not to be lost when I head back out a few hours from now to be sure the gates are clear of snow and the hens have remained in the coop.  Until then, I'll jump under my covers, fully planing to get a bit of sleep before I check on things again,  but in reality I'll probably just binge watch Netflix instead. There is a blizzard after all.