It is 14F (–10C) this morning. Snow on the ground. Yesterday we were locked inside with a blizzard hurling itself around outside. It was about 18F all day. Snow flew in swirls through the fields past the buildings and straight out across the plains. It seemed very certain of its path that snow. We were in the way and got smacked for the privilege. The Farmy Animals were locked in the barn for the day as well. So I wrapped my old camera in a plastic bag against the nastiness, put all my clothes on at once and went to the barn, taking you guys with me. Did you know that your eyes live in an old camera.
The wind was gusting up to 40 miles an hour (a good Wellington kind of wind), TonTon, the Big Dog and I literally forced our bodies into the wind to the barn. Bent. I have heard of old fellas stretching a rope from their houses to their barns so they can pull themselves hand over hand to see to their stock, this seemed like a good idea to me yesterday. Finally we got to the door, shovelled the snow away from it and stumbled our way into the barn, the wind howled at us, furious that we had made it and we slammed the door in its face. 
A curious thing happens in the barn when the wind is bombarding snow at the walls. The moment you close the door against the storm, the volume drops and the barn shifts right through time into a stillness that is layered with age somehow. You see, the walls of the barn are full of cracks, shrunken old, old boards, holes, loose planks. The huge space becomes fractured and hesitant. Old. The light itself is borrowed, flickering in Tinkerbell delight from an old movie reel.
Filtered, finely sifted, talcum snow drifts into the barn through the minutest of cracks. It is caught in the light like dustmotes. But not dusty. It gently falls through the tips of light like a sunshower of the finest shards of crystal champagne glasses. There is no sound though there should be a tinkle. Just this glisten in the air. These tiniest of rejected diamonds. Like migraines flashing lights in your eyes but sweeter. The Storm is blindfolded in here. Only its breath is allowed. This immense embracing sense of otherworldliness consumes us.
It is warm from the animals, alive and shuffly. I take shots of the cows for you but it feels as though there should be more big heads turning and other tails switching. The shuffling and chewing is ancient. Timeless. Shadows are here in this light. Other doey eyes slowly blink. Other calves sigh.
Everyone stands or sleeps or chews quietly. No-one is bashing at the doors to get out today. Or bellowing for more feed. History has come. Old forgotton lullabies are being sung.
And now once again it is Morning on the Farmy. The sky is still black so I have yet to see any of the damage outside. I am concerned about the hives. The storm smashed through here for most of the day and night. The snow has stopped but the wind is still ripping through. Mary’s Cat decided to sleep in the barn but was sat on his stool at the kitchen door by 4.30am as usual so he is OK. Such a worry that tough little vandal of a cat.
OK, since I started to write it has dropped to 13F. So I had better start putting on the layers and out I will go.
Good morning
c
The Kitchen's Garden 
96 responses to “Hiding Out from the Blizzard in The Barn”
Celia there is a beautifully written prose poem in here. I would be going brrr, when can I get back indoors by the fire? But no, you seem as though you are revelling in it!
No point in grizzling about the cold!! Won’t change it (laugh!) . morning Viv.. c
…and good morning to you! What a description of the storm and of you and Ton Ton fighting your way through it to the barn.
You manage to make even a violent storm sound beautiful. Lovely pictures and beautiful writing!
Stay safe and warm.
Ronnie
Safe and warm again now Ronnie, My little upstairs studio loft is the warmest place in the house!
c
Great description of the snow drifting through the cracks. I hope your bees are OK.
I am back inside now for a bit and the bees seem to weathered the storm just fine. They glue their boxes together very tightly and their little exits and entrances have already been cleared by the bees themselves. No need for me and my stick. It always amazes me how they survive.. c
Good Morming and have a nice day and weekend. Your photographs and your expressions are amazing as always. Thank you, with my love, nia
Morning nia. Hope all is well on your side of the world! c
The wind was howling and it was snowing here last night as well. Hope the bees are ok. Stay warm, it is not fun out there. t
yup the bees seem OK, still in one piece anyway, a little brisk outside today but I have good help!! c
“The light itself is borrowed, flickering in Tinkerbell delight from an old movie reel.” Such a picture you paint! And such wonderful photos you take! This post, Celi, is a real beauty. Now stay inside with a cuppa tea and stay warm!
For our first real winter storm, we didn’t fair badly — it could have been much worse. Now it’s my turn to go out into it. The snow blower is primed and ready for it’s christening. No, this is hardly the bucolic setting you’ve described and the blower’s roar is about to disturb whatever quiet there is in the neighborhood. Funny how once the neighbors see that I’m clearing their walks, too, the blower’s noise seems less offensive.
There is not too much snow actually on the ground is there. Some lovely drifts though. Where did it all go, has it been blown all the way to canada?
Have fun with your snow blower. The bees used their snow blowers early this morning and have already cleared their little entrances! Our John cleared the foot path with his shovel and then got the tractor out for the lane so we are good to go. c
Masterfully captured. I feel like I’m in the storm, then into the stillness of the barn with you and the animals. Stay warm and enjoy the adventure! Believe it or not, I envy your snow, even though it means more work…It’s raining and very foggy here this morning in coastal Massachusetts, even though the thermometer says 30F.
Ah rain and fog, Fog is a challenge for me because i like to see far! When it is damp like that the cold is different. Harder to shake off in a way! c
This is so beautiful and evocative. Thank you for taking me out of my own daily grind for a minute…
You are welcome Charlotte. Lovely that you had time to read.. is it wet on your side of the world too?.. c
A bit chilly then! fab photos. Hope the hives are ok.
Regards Florence x
Just a tad Florence!! Just a touch on the chilly side! But it could be worse! c
What a wonderful post! Thanks for sharing!
You are welcome wazeau, have a great day!! c
Hope you didn’t have any damage. We’re very exposed to the high winds here when they come and I always find it very scary, so I sympathise with the situation. 🙂
Well you know what I mean about the howling wind then!! c
Oh, I do! Early last week we had strong winds and the INNER pane of the double glazing was moving. 😦
eek! c
reading this made me want to curl up in a corner of the barn with all of the animals! how lovely!
It really does calm me when i go into the barn. there is an enfolding atmosphere in there esp when all the animals are inside. c
Everyone has pretty much said what I would’ve done, so I’ll just say, stay warm, stay safe. xx
Good Morning, i shall pop in soon and see what you are up to in your kitchen!! c
You have taken me back to the prairie with this post, back to my childhood and the blizzards that raged. You have taken me out of that winter storm into the comfort of my childhood barn via your poetic writing. You captured every detail, exactly how it feels to be inside a barn with the animals on a day such as yours. Kudos on this post, probably my favorite of all the lovely stories you’ve written.
BTW, only light snow here in southeastern Minnesota, minus the 40 mph winds.
Thank you Audrey. I much prefer snow without the wind! c
Wonderful photos! I was cold just reading the intro and then warmed up when those barn pictures popped up. Great post.
Thanks greg, i ned to op over and see what you guys were cooking last night! c