When snow comes . . . .

I can see a snowline on the mountains out our west window this morning. It extends below the Schweitzer bowls, but it's got a ways to go before reaching the valley floor. I heard on the news last night that we can expect up to six inches of flakes to fall at our 2,200-foot level, beginning tomorrow afternoon.

In these parts, we spend the months of October and November getting ready for when snow comes: raking every possible leaf blown from the trees and transporting the piles off to be burned, putting away gardening and lawn tools, storing bicycles, chairs and tables, pulling dead plants and rearranging pasture assignments for horses.

The horses nibbled on their last grass in the hayfield a couple of days ago. Lily made that decision when she refused to let me catch her in her morning pasture. That refusal seemed like a good enough excuse to start the winter routine where, except for a brief time of separation in the morning so Lefty can eat his grain, the two blanketed horses will spend the winter days in the barnyard nibbling on piles of hay and winter nights feeding on grain and hay in their box stalls.

That means many more trips of hauling a lot more hay from the loafing shed to the barn. Two bales on the back of the 4-wheeler six days ago lasting several days has increased to five or six bales to last a week. We already have several bales of that high-grade alfalfa in the barn to mix in with the loafing shed bales.

Our homegrown crop of grass hay---though a bit dry and coarse from being harvested in dry, dry conditions---will last until about January. Then, Harvey will deliver the three tons of grass hay I bought from him a couple of months ago.

Yesterday, he delivered both grass and alfalfa to my sisters who have 11 mouths to feed at their farm. Harvey bought his alfalfa in big 3-string bales from the Columbia Basin---15 bales to the ton. He ran a bit short in his usual fields this year, so he had to buy to supply, but my sisters are happy with the quality of his delivery yesterday.

Speaking of hay, yesterday, I completed a very satisfying pre-winter project. We have decided to double the size of our hayfield next year. Next year Doug Stockdale will harvest from a larger field, which now includes the Ponderosa pasture. And, with yesterday's removal of another stretch of goat fencing string and metal posts, we can also take a straight shot with the four-wheeler across the field to get to the Lodgepole pasture. If we could be assured one more day of dry ground, I'd also take the tractor out there and brush hog that strip of tall grass running down the middle where the fence stood until yesterday.

Also, before the snow comes, I hope to rake a few more leaves from that flower bed next to the driveway and maybe even pick up that leaf blanket that fell from the big apple tree. I'd like to clean out some more dead plants. And, I've got to transport the big adirondack rocker and its little brother from the deck into the Quansit storage shed.

There'll be no more raking the kitty litter into the garden bed because it's now frozen solid, and I'll probably not pick any more carrots until spring. Last year I forgot about some I'd planted, and upon finding them in the spring, I finally discovered what I'd heard for so many years---that winter hibernation enhances carrot flavor tenfold. So, that's one good reason to appreciate a good blanket of snow.

We'll also appreciate the snow when it erases the drab, grayish-brown color of dead grass and leafless trees. The big white-cover up does have its advantages in the esthetics department, but it also means a lot more work---shoveling, plowing, gearing up to go outside and stay dry, mopping up snow water melting on floors, getting cars ready to roll down slick roads. It also severely limits the animals roaming territory. When the snow comes, our lives definitely change for several months.

For some folks along with the snow comes the ecstasy of a long-awaited ski season. For others, it means getting those snow shoes out for peaceful walks through the silent woods. For others like my mother, it means months of being cooped up inside, often depending on others for transport to town for groceries and filling prescriptions. My mother hates the snow, and I don't blame her.

There's not a lot we can do to stop the snow from falling, and, and conversely for the folks who love it, there's not a lot we can do to make it happen. I guess this is the time of the year when some folks turn happy while others start counting the days until the snow goes away and gets us out of all that work or just plain out of the house.