The good, the bad, and the ugly

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

There are so many things about winter that I love, things that I think of as absolutely good. There is the quiet of the woods when the snow falls. It absolutely calms any worries I might have, and how I could ever wish for another time of year when I look up to see the stark beauty of white-topped branches standing proudly against the winter gray sky overhead? 

You already know how I love sitting beside the wood stove, a warm throw across my lap. These are just a few of the things that make me wish that this season would last forever.

But ... there are those other things about winter that I’m pretty sure I can live without. I hesitate to consider them bad, simply because I don't care for that word. I can't remember the last time I might have used it. Its negativity doesn’t jive with my glass-is-half-full outlook on life. So, I suppose I’ll describe these next wintertime things as being not quite so good.

The first not quite so good thing that comes to mind is the challenge of living with solar energy during winter's short days, when not only are the days shorter, but the sun lies lower on the horizon. This means that its energy-generating rays must pass through more of the earth's atmosphere before they reach our solar panels, and this means that the rays are weaker and have lost some of their energy generating potential. Accordingly, each evening, after the sun has slipped over the hill behind our cabin, I check the state of charge in the batteries to see if we need to fire up the generator. This really is not a bad thing. It is, simply, a challenge.

Then there is the not so good endeavor of always conserving our firewood. When I lived in the city, there was the challenge of keeping the thermostat set low. When I wasn’t looking, the children would raise it higher, though none confessed to the act. With a lower set thermostat, at the end of the month, I would see our reward in a lower heating bill. The challenge we faced then was choosing between raising the thermostat for immediate warmth or donning an extra layer of clothing. I suppose that I might agree with the children. It was far easier to rise from the sofa and raise the thermostat. Our clothes closets were on the second floor, after all.

Now, when I step outside the cabin door, I am greeted by our ever-dwindling woodpile. This sight quickly reminds me to conserve. I will confess, however, that when the pile towers tall, and is four stacks deep, we do tend to burn through it rather freely. Still, as you well know, sitting beside the wood stove is one of my favorite winter pass times, and so, heating with wood is not that bad after all.

Then, winter is the time of below freezing temperatures, which means that the animals' water buckets quickly turn to solid ice. This requires turning the rubber buckets over, stomping on them with one foot, or even jumping on them with both feet, to dislodge the ice, only to refill them so they can freeze again. Not so good you might say, and I might even agree, but ahh, glass-is-half-full Christine smiles as she jumps and thinks to herself what a wonderful workout this endeavor is. Yes, I am so fortunate to have this daily wintertime task. I have no need to pay for a gym membership. I can stomp and jump cost free. Once again, not so bad after all.

This now brings me to the ugly. The little horses and sheep look like ragamuffins. Their winter coats are thick, dirty and gnarly. The horses' beautiful tails gather weighty ice balls from dragging across the snow covered ground. I trim them repeatedly. The sheep have long tendrils of wool hanging from their backs and look somewhat like fluff covered octopuses. In short, my little herd is far from beautiful, but then again, perhaps not. 

Perhaps beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. These sweet creatures follow me with absolute adoration. Their eyes shine up at me with pure love, though maybe their eyes shine with pure begging for treats. It does not matter. How could I ever consider them ugly?

The first day of spring is less than four weeks away. I smile. I might just be sad to see these winter days go.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.