36 Below

       Good Evening,
       It has been a long week.  Extended cold weather is providing challenging conditions to care for farm animals. The last four nights have dipped to either side of 30 degrees below 0 and the daily temperature has barely risen above 5 degrees. Visits to the barn must be brief; performing only essential chores.  Aside from a fleeting glimpse of each occupant's condition it is not possible for me to spend quality time with them.  I worry about my animals incessantly.  Concern for my baby donkeys wakes me in the middle of the night when I hear trees outside our window, crack and pop with the dropping temperatures. 
      The following poem is a description of my morning routine this week.  Read it quickly to get a sense of the urgency in feeding 11 horses, 3 goats and 2 donkeys before hypothermia sets in.  

36 Below

My eyes blink in disbelief

36.7 below?

Adrenalin pumping, Into snow pants I'm jumping

Bundle up 
then out to the barn I go!

First breath is tight in my chest

Crunchy snow under each hurried step

The lights moan and chug

too cold; they barely flicker

Think quickly, only essential chores

Extra hay, measured grain, thankful for heated water buckets

A frosty head appears 
at every stall door
Eyelashes, whiskers and ears
Each hair strung with icy beads
Between large nostrils 
I leave a melting kiss

Fingers numb but, I'm not quite done

In the heat of the tackroom I seek relief

allow warm water to flow

A dry pair of gloves

then back into the cold I go

Goaties' twisted bodies huddled;

faces buried in each other's thick cashmere
Onto their feet they rise and greet
then plunge mouths into grain with gusto

Off to the 'indoor' next

where another light fails 

Donkeys lie still

No welcoming 'wuffle'

In my panic they rise

Wipe the relief from my eyes

wrap an arm around each 
press my face against their tiny muzzles

gusts of their warm breath on my frozen cheek
ah, such an indulgence 

Windy's, (1983 to 2010), frosty complexion is the result of -30 degrees. circa; 1995. 

Despite the bitter cold, (36.7 degrees below 0), Lowtchee is in good spirits and ready to dig into her hay!