9 and 9

It’s 9pm on the clock. I glance over at the weather station on the wall and it shows 9F outside. Kids are in bed and it’s time for chores.

I pull in ski pants, my winter boots, don the ski jacket and grab a knit hat and gloves as I head out the back door. It’s not a bad night, calm, crisp, a dry night as I walk across to the barn.

It’s a peaceful time, and I move around, filling the wagon with hay and getting it out to the horses. The cats get food in the middle as they and the dogs scurry around the barn. It’s doesn’t take much time, but it’s quiet, relaxing time to myself. No thinking required, just a little hard work.

Fifteen minutes later my fingers are getting cold. The single digits are having an effect. I lock the cats in the tack room to stay warm and head back to the house. The dogs wander around, and I stop to look up at the sky, waiting for them at the door.

Not my choice of how to spend a cold winter night, but it’s one I enjoy.