“Old Man [Winter], He Just Keeps Rolling Along” -Showboat, edited

I close my eyes until they’re barely slits, yet the snow still blinds me.

It’s so bright. It looks fun–to play and frolic within this fluffy white cloud.

Looks are decieving. (So is the word decieving. ‘I’ before ‘E’ except after ‘C’? Not in this case.)

The day appears perfect. Snow glitters and shines, the perfect cover to hide a multitude of flaws. For one, it conceals mountains of manure here at the farm.

I’m indoors this afternoon for a little longer, and then I’ll brave the cold to visit Family Farm and Home. I’ll buy enough Senior Feed, Strategy Healty Edge to get me through until the end of January, when my Feed Delivery woman will come back. The ponies are cold so they’re going through more hay and grain to keep themselves warm.

The snow swirls and wind chills.

Once I’m back from the store, it’s time to work on a good book, sitting in front of the heater, in the living room.

 

 

 

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