We stepped out for the weekend and–better late than never–winter has set in. Here is the last bloom I found in the garden: a shrub rose.
Like much of the country, we got socked by all that rain last week, and that rain eventually transitioned to snow, but made a stop at Iceville first. NOT FUN. Lots of downed branches around the farm, lots of slippy slidy conditions for all, chickens included. Poor chickens. Where did their grass go? They seem to appreciate their chicken condo. We’ve gotta get some de-icers, though, for their water.
The sheep, like the chickens, appreciate a doubling of food to keep them metabolizing, heating them up in the process. It has come as something of a shock to me that the sheep sleep outside. I had noticed some thawed patches of ground in their pen a couple of weeks back on a day that their wooly selves were covered with frost. Can’t they go into their shed? I mean, chickens, with their minuscule birdbrains, at least have the sense to get out of the cold.
I am glad, though, for this snowcover. It’s hard to think of snow as an insulator, but it is. So all those perennials, fruit plants and raised beds of microbial action are (blessedly) covered. For now.
I laughed out loud about the sheep not having the sense to come in from the cold. At least you got some pretty snow to look at. We just got tons of icy rain that ended up flooding our basement. Ugh!
This is why I love ducks in all their craziness: no de-icers needed: those probing bills keep the top layer of the bucket ice-free, and they will also spend the night outside (despite the nice digs they’ve got). A friend had about 30 sheep for a while and they had no shelter at all. Them’s are some hardy animals.
Only a dusting here, and it will probably be gone by tomorrow. It’s too bad because I love it.