Another Old-Fashioned Winter

Across the Fence #216

This has been a great day... a great day to be inside. The storm began yesterday. Snow, wind, and sub-zero temperatures have been the order of the day. Our thermometer registered a low of 13 below zero last night. I don't want to know what the wind chill was. Weather forecasters told people to stay home and avoid traveling because of the blowing and drifting snow. Sensible people heeded the warning. We, being of questionable sound mind, ventured out to attend a surprise birthday party.

I should mention that Vernon County not only has the Kickapoo River, also known as the "Crooked River," but also has miles and miles of crooked roads. Many of those roads also have steep, winding hills. This makes for interesting and adventuresome winter driving, especially during a snowstorm with near-blizzard conditions, when you've been warned to stay off the roads.

We took our time and had no problems. Well, I shouldn't say no problems. Blowing snow made it hard to find the center of the crooked roads at times. Sherpe Road had lots of drifts by the time we got home. It reminded me of the old-fashioned winters I remember when I was growing up on this farm. A North/South wind often filled parts of the road with three to four foot drifts in places. Nothing got in or out, until the snowplow arrived to plow us out.

Arvid Harpestad usually did the plowing on our Viroqua Township road with his road grader that had a snowplow attachment. He seemed to arrive around coffee time and always plowed our driveway too. When he was done, Dad would invite him in to warm up and have some coffee. I suspect Arvid times his arrival at our place to coincide with coffee time. He knew Ma was a great cook. She always had sandwiches, cake, cookies, and quite often, pie, to go along with coffee. I don't eat that much for lunch these days. But back then, inviting someone to stop for coffee, was much more than just a cup of coffee.

But I digress; lets get back to the present. This morning we awoke to bitter cold temperatures and high winds, with blowing and drifting snow. It was the kind of cold wind that took your breath away and could freeze exposed skin in a matter of minutes. The wind chill must have been 30-35 below zero. When I walked on the snow it had that crunching sound that goes with really cold weather.

I have to wonder how the birds manage to survive through days and nights like this. They need plenty of energy to keep their body temperature up to keep from freezing to death. I keep their feeders full and shovel an area under them for all the ground-feeding birds. The Chickadees like to stay in the shelter of a grove of trees where I hung a feeder. This morning they were waiting on nearby branches as I filled the feeder. I stood there watching as they began feeding. They showed no fear of this human that was standing only a foot away.

As I stood in the shelter of the trees, it was still hard to escape the bitter cold. I thought of the Native Americans who once occupied this Coon Prairie area long before the first Norwegians arrived. We complain about the cold weather now. How difficult it must have been for them on days like this. Even if they were in a protected area out of the wind, the cold must have been terrible to deal with. 

I also thought of those poor soldiers in World War II during the Battle of the Bulge and soldiers fighting in Korea. They endured horrible conditions, fighting and sleeping in snow-filled foxholes and dealing with sub-zero temperatures. We can't imagine what it must have been like.

I thought of the days like this when a water pipe would burst in the old barn. Dad was not a happy camper when he found water running in the barn, or frozen pipes so the cows couldn't get any water. That's not a good way for any farmer to start a cold, winter morning. It makes you wish your ancestors had settled in Florida or Arizona when they first arrived in this country.

I've got to admit, it's nice being safe and warm inside, on a day like this. I can look out the window from where I'm sitting and see snow blowing the snow off the top of huge drifts along the fence line. Drifts across the field behind the house resemble rippling waves on an ocean. It's beautiful when viewed from inside a warm house.

This is a Sunday, so I don't need to try and get to work. It reminded me of those old-fashioned winters of my youth when we couldn't get to school because of snowstorms and roads drifted shut. At least I don't have to go to the barn and help do the milking and chores in this weather. That was tough. Remember when you had to use a pickaxe to chop at the frozen silage. Uff da, the good old days!? Now I sit inside and write about it instead. There's something to be said for having a warm, wimpy job on days like this, when an old-fashioned winter has arrived.