Yesterday was the first day of Winter. Now I always thought it was March that was supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb, but somebody got mixed up. Why? Because last night a Blizzard Warning was issued for the Pacific Northwest Coast. Now we are not on the coast and so were not included in the warning. Besides, this is the Pacific Northwest, not Montana or Minnesota. Piece of Cake. No problemo. But guess what? We had the blizzard. Here.
It started last evening and continued through the night. At 1:15 a.m., the goatmother got up to take Cabra out. Snow was plastered on the window screens all the way up to the top. When she opened the door, a small wall of snow had to be removed before the Cabrarator could get through the door. Our highest wind speed was 46 mph, but there were places that had 100. I suppose we should be thankful for small favors, but the truth is snow blew into the barn via every crack it could find. It managed to find its way all the way to the back of the right side and managed even to infiltrate the sacred hay space despite the door being shut. I guess it wouldn't have been so bad except that an already small sleeping area got even smaller once everyone crammed into the no-snow zone. By morning things had calmed down considerably and we could venture out to survey the aftermath. Well, some of us ventured out.
Nothing stops the moles. They are like the U.S. Postal Service.
Everywhere, like valiant little soldiers, leaves were stuck upright in the snow, a testament to the fury of the blizzard.
Our beloved tire stood stoically, looking oddly like an iced Christmas pudding.
The goatfather's truck became stuck trying to get up the driveway. The neighbor had to come help. It's a darned good thing, too, since the goatfather's 'unsticking' efforts were causing the truck to slide sideways toward the pasture fence.
Naturally the goats ventured out to see what all the commotion was about. (Please note who is conspicuously absent. I am, in fact, firmly ensconced in the warm hay, but I did peer out once or twice just to keep up appearances.)
And there were tracks in the snow. There were large doggie tracks.
And there were small doggie tracks.
And there were bird tracks.
And then there were these tracks. Can you see them heading out toward the road through the grass? No?
Here's a better look. Notice the rather large size and the rather large claw marks at the front? Yes, my friends, this is the track of none other than a Black Bear. I thought all this time they were hibernating. Who knew? ...Oy...
The tracks went up the road and finally wandered off back into the woods. I say. OY. Obviously the guy was hungry. At any rate, I sure hope he doesn't have a taste for Peanuts.
Well, now, Winter. No wonder, waaay back in September, those Woolly Boogers, were trying to hide in the barn. Take my advice, Y'All. I've said it once, and I'll say it again. Always, but always trust a Woolly Booger when it comes to Winter.