Either I will find a way, or I make one.
Sir Philip Sydney
First thing this morning I slipped on hiking boots over my bare toes. I wrapped a scarf around my neck and stepped out into the great outdoors. I walked over and stood in the snow, and then took a deep breath. The cool air filled my lungs and cleared my head. I thought to myself, whatever bug that had hitched a ride home from the city was no match for our country air. The cold wind blew and the goosebumps on my bare arms suggested that I go back inside. It felt incredible. The day before, just to get down into the barnyard, to push open the gate buried in snow proved a daunting task, so this was progress.
You are probably wondering why would I even try, while this menacing bug continued to plague my poor body, “Wreaking havoc on my sheer existence” (too much eh?). I always wanted to write that line, so there it is.
Well, I am a farmer and I have a herd of lovely ladies that depend on me. Oh yes, our cows needed me so I slipped on coveralls, boots and a toque and I opened the door. I headed out into the snow.
The realization, that a week’s diet consisting of tea and crackers certainly will not give you the energy you may need to do physical activity hit me. I was “pooped.” I had only made it a few steps outside the closed door. The barnyard appeared so incredibly far away.
There had been a blizzard the day before and My Hero had made sure the cows were well taken care of before it arrived. They had been settled in with extra bedding and feed. The next morning he had to go to his day job before the sun came up. Those cows had to be checked and fed. I had to do this. There was no one else.
I dragged one foot beside the other and made it to the gate. The darn snow was drifted on both sides. I pushed and I pushed. Then I turned around and honestly just put my back into it. That worked enough for me to squeeze through. My tractor, Little Red was covered in snow and I hoped that she had been missing me; after all, it had been awhile. There was no doubt that she would start up because she would feel sorry for me, with my pale complexion and those beads of sweat frozen on my nose.
There are a lot of steps up into the cab of Little Red. I grabbed hold of the bar and pulled. My first attempt did not go as I had hoped. I slipped. The next attempt was a success.
I plunked down in the seat and patted the dash. “Please Little Red.” I turned the key.
She started right up. I knew she had a heart. The cold air blew out of the vents and I sat and listened to the hum of the motor. I thanked Little Red as her wipers cleared the front window.
The snow was deep so I drove down the long lane with the hay prongs lowered on the front of the tractor, enough to make a path. There was no way I had the strength to change to the snow bucket. That seemed to work just fine. I came to the gate that guards the hay. Drat, more up and down the tractor step, and then open a gate.
That time seemed to go a bit smoother, or I may have been delirious by that time. I grabbed a couple of hay bales and headed back through the gate. Climbed down, shut the gate and climbed back up into the seat. Shiver, shake, spin I was fading fast.
When I did get to the cows, they were socializing around a partial green bale of hay. They did not run to me as per their usual. That upset me after all my effort. My Hero had indeed set them up nicely. It was apparent that they did not need me, as much as I had needed them. I looked back towards the house. Drat.