March is a month when we typically aren't surprised to get snow. I suppose we could wish for these winter-like conditions in December. Or January. Or February. You know. In the real winter months. I mean today is the first day of Spring, right? Ha! Not in these here parts.
The not-so-nice thing about this last snow we got is there is a coating of ice underneath everything. A fact to which Chicken Mama can attest.
I snapped this picture from Papa Pea's office window this morning. Dear daughter had just dropped off Tucker and was heading down our driveway to work.
The depth quality of the picture isn't good, I know, (and she was already halfway out) but her little red chariot ended up completely sideways in the driveway. There is a sharp 90-degree turn to our driveway right before it goes into the heavy woods and out of sight of the house. The turn is v-e-r-y slippery right now. She stopped crosswise in the drive with her back wheels just enough off the drive and in a snowbank to hang her up.
No problem. She hiked back in toward the house, and when she got close her dad hollered out and said he'd suit up and come help. She said thanks but she could handle it herself. She got a small can of our ashes, a shovel and had herself unstuck practically before her dad could dress himself in all his winter regalia. He got down to her just in time to wave good-bye and carry the ash can and shovel back up to the house.
This little getting stuck problem was nothing compared to what she's dealt with the past two-plus years when living alone out in the boonies at Swamp River Ridge. Whenever I compliment her on how capable she is and able to handle anything tossed her way, she replies she's able to do so because we raised her "strong. " (Said with a grunt and show of muscle.) I'm not sure that was a quality listed as Number 1 or 2 when thinking of the characteristics we tried to instill in her . . . but I'm glad it turned out that way.
Not Much to Show on the Barn
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