As many of you know, many of my blog entries deal with life on Almosta ranch and I have been pleased to see that for the most part people have enjoyed these entries. However, I have also noticed an alarming trend among those who leave comments. Many folks express the opinion that life on Almosta is somehow idyllic and they wish they could experience this lifestyle.

Well folks I am here to tell you it ain’t all sweetness and light around here. Anyone who has ever lived on a farm or ranch will tell you that the work is never ending and you don’t get a day off on Sunday or holidays. Animals have to be fed, fences have to be mended, and hay has to be brought in, especially in the Winter when grass is gone from the pastures.

Couple all of this with the fact that, at age sixty-three, I have the physical stamina of an anemic slug and maybe you can imagine what my days are like. As hard as it is, I can still manage to keep up and even get a small glimmer of enjoyment in the work during the Spring and Summer. But, of course, we are not in those seasons are we, no we are in the middle of Winter.

Winter this year has been mild, thank God, but a little over a week ago Mama Nature decided to remind me who was boss. She turned loose Bruce, the Norse god of Snowflakes. I awoke that morning, looked out the door and discovered that the porch thermometer I had brought with me from Texas was registering 17 degrees or what we in Texas refer to PLEASE GOD, JUST SHOOT ME!

Snow was falling thickly and sideways in about a twenty-mile-per-hour wind and I couldn’t even see the barn from my porch. I calmly shut the door and turned to retreat into the bed room where I keep my rifle. Mel was too quick for me though; she had already hidden the bullets.

“You don’t get off that easy.” She told me. “No shooting yourself, I’m the only one that gets to shoot you, dummy.”

Damn woman!

So there was nothing left to do but get on with the chores. A note here: If you take a Texan and plop him down in the arse end of the Artic, please allow him one hour to get dressed before he goes outside. That’s how long it takes me to put on every stitch of clothes that I own.

Once that was done I trudged out to the barn, followed by Mel who was wearing only one of her light coats….dang show-off. The next hour was spent bringing the mares into the barn and feeding them, along with the donkeys, then forcing my way through the blizzard to the Stallion’s pasture to feed him and the goats. Then I finished one of my favorite chores…breaking ICE off the top of the water troughs….yeah, that was sarcasm.

Finally, everyone fed and everyone having water, it was time to go back in the house for a bit of rest. Of course, by then I was unable to feel anything below my neck and my teeth were beginning to freeze. I staggered toward the house, relieved to be headed toward my favorite chair during the Winter…the heater.

I had almost made it to the house when Mother Nature decided that I hadn’t suffered near enough. The wind had blown the snow into a mound covering a coiled water hose next to the house and of course I managed to hang my numb toe on the frozen plastic coil.

SPLAT! I went down face first in the damn snow!

I’m not sure how long I lay there, encapsulated in my own private world of misery. After awhile I became aware of Mel standing over me, looking down and smiling.

“You think that’s the best place to take a nap?” She asked.

I turned my frozen, snow encrusted face and fixed her with one jaundiced eye. “ And don’t you think you should get in the house before I get up…just for safety’s sake.”

“Hum…point taken.” She replied as she hurried into the house.

Well I did manage to rise from that frozen, hell-litter known as snow but it took me three days of sitting, taking meals, and sleeping on our large home heater to thaw out.

And that, dear friends, is a true glimpse of real life on Almosta Ranch. It ain’t all sunshine and cracker-jacks around here….just saying.