North Idaho Slop Have Cometh . . . .

Okay.  We will NOT make it through a whole winter without slop.  I was beginning to worry, especially yesterday when it was Heavenly outside with blue sky, stunning sunshine and warmth. 

After all, in this country when life is too easy and going much too well, worry and guilt set in.  

We've had an easy winter, and things have been going very well as far as attending to the day-to-day chores.

But, by gollee, this morning, it felt like old home week out there.  

"I thought it was going to rain all night," Bill said, after his first look out the door.  He was then on his way to slip into his work clothes and boots.  Soon, he was out the door, and not long after that, the tractor was working.

It snowed most of the night; then came the rain.  So, of course, the snow weighed a ton.

Of course, the dogs couldn't go outside because Bill was plowing the driveway and the area around the barn.  Dogs like to help, but tractor drivers don't necessarily appreciate their help.

So, the Kiwi, Kea and Foster weren't too thrilled to have to stay inside.

When I went outside later, my first order of business was to pick up the shovel and open a pathway to the driveway where Bill was plowing.  Then came another pathway out into the barnyard for hay feeding.

I then shoveled all around gate leading to the barnyard and the barn door.

Could I open that door?

Heck, no. It would not budge, even after I'd cleaned out its pathway.

So, I went over to the shop and picked up a hoedag or something similar.  It's a tool with a wide metal blade, used for planting trees.  

I figured maybe I could slip its blade underneath the door and lift the door up a smidge above the snow.

No dice.  The angle would not allow the blade beneath the door. 

So, I yanked on the door handle on the east end.  It wouldn't move.

I tried to nudge the door toward me from the front and then pulled on the west end.  

Horses started whinnying inside.  I began to wonder how long it would be before I could get inside the barn to get their hay and lead them outside.  

After all, if I take too long, Lily starts kicking the side of her stall.  

Finally, after a few more tugs on the east side, the door began to move. 

It's been hard to open because of heaving ground during that recent cold spell, so there's a method I've been using.  

Get the door open about a foot, then stand at the west end and use the entire body to push it open. 

Good isometric exercise, plus the door eventually slides to the east. 

Bill plowed for more than an hour, and there's still plenty of cleaning up to do.

It's warm outside, though, and maybe the rain and warmth will combine forces to rid us of some of the messy, hard-to-move slop.  

This year, we've had quite a break from days like today, and it's Feb. 12.  I'm sure we'll have more to come, but if Mother Nature will just follow the calendar this year, maybe we'll get back to easy times soon.

For now, it feels like typical North Idaho winter, and sometimes we kinda miss that----for about five minutes, that is.

Happy Wednesday.  

P.S.  My friend Helen, mentioned in yesterday's post, celebrated her birthday yesterday AND Feb. 1.  During our pleasant telephone visit, she rationalized in my behalf.

"This is Feb. 11," she said, "and the date has two "1's," so that's close enough."   

Sounded good to me!