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”
Oh Cecelia…stay warm! How I dread for you to step out into that cold!! Only you can make what would appear to me to be horrible conditions seem so magical and beautiful!
I wear a lot of clothes, I am dressed like the michelin man! c
Brrr but it looks very cozy with you all there together 🙂
It is strangly cosy in there you are right.. I love the barn.. c
Lovely post.
Thank you.. c
Oh what a beautiful post, I was there with you but I´ll be a while yet before I come in for a cup of tea as I´m going to stay in the barn for a bit snuggled up to the cows breathing in the warm smells and watching the snow through the cracks.
OK, I will put the cosy on the tea pot then!! c
Your words have no equal. You make me blush for complaining about waking up to 21 degrees today. Though I did have to go recrack the ice on the chickens water mid morning! LOL!
~ Lynda
21 is pretty cold! and i am forever stomping in water buckets! always makes me think of you doing the same… which reminds me i had better go check the chickens one! .. c
You have a magical way with words. I could feel the quiet of the barn when you shut the door on the wind. Your animals are all beautiful and so lucky to have such a neat, old barn to snuggle into.
we are very lucky with the barn, I could not farm out here without one.. c
I love your pictures – not only your photos, but the pictures you paint with your words! A rare and wonderful gift! We have a dusting of snow, but the wind howled last night and is only a bit calmer now. Temps are in the teens, but wind chill is zero.
I don’t even look at wind chill.. it would be dreadful.. I do love it when they say FEELS LIKE 7, whoi! .. who feels like it is 7, a naked person, a baby, an old codger.. who!! c
You got it – captured prefectly that sense of timelessness inside an old barn, where Daisy and friends keep company with the shades of others, a hundred years-gone. The silent not-silence after the door is shut against the storm. The snowflakes that glitter like fairy dust.
Thanks for the visit.
Oh, and that wind? It got here about 10am. Nothing to drive before it but dry leaves, but it’s howling out there now…
Did you hear a whisper of the barn in your wind, i sometimes wonder when it rips another flake of paint off our barn who gets it delivered into their garden! c
I’ll keep my ears open…there are no whispers to be heard above the roar of the wind and the waves…even a mile away, I can hear the ocean now…
We went to the beach yesterday! It was a gorgeous day at Main Beach. We met a worm catcher and a fisherman and had a lovely swim and a walk along the beach – such a contrast. I love the contrasts of the seasons. Soon I will be back in the lovely cold too.
What a fantastic aussie day. A worm catcher! and a swim and a beach walk.. paradise! Massive contrast.. c
I have never thought of an ancient barn, shut against the storm, as ethereal: but you have painted it so today. What captivating writing: the movie reel image will stay with me for a long time 🙂 Hope the hives survived all right.
The hives look ok, so once again, fingers crossed. Thank you for your comment too, Kate, is is lovely to hear! c
When you were describing how you were forcing your bodies against the wind to get to the barn, and what was going on in the barn with the animals quietly chewing, the stillness in the barn despite what was going on outside, and the snow coming through the cracks in the old wood – I felt I was right there with you . . . your writing is so alive! It was like reading a book, so thank you for a great read.
Glad your bees survived – they are tough little critters.
I love reading about your interesting life on the Farmy.
I am glad you like visiting, I thoroughly enjoy having you, i hope you are having a good day! c
You have a rare talent for painting pictures with words and then adding beautiful photos – thank you for sharing your special talents. I felt like I was there in the barn with you and the animals.
thank you lois and lovely to see you popping in! you take care of yourself.. I loved your amnesia post! c
I was steered here through Souldipper’s blog, Cecilia. What a beautiful post that brought me back in touch with many hours spent in my horse barn of a winter, quietly listening to them munch their hay and grain as I would clean their stalls. It was always a day off from the ordinary exercising, training, and riding lessons that went on. I’d eventually turn on the radio for them and would use the extra day to groom them and just be close. Thank you for this memory.
Hullo leslie and welcome. You will know exactly what i mean then, it is such a lovely life, even in the midst of a storm!
Barns are magical in winter. Thanks for such a detailed description. (and that rope to the barn…it’s not such a bad idea.) Stay warm!
I think so too karen, i would be tempted if there was not a drive in the way!! c
You had me the minute you and Ton -Ton slammed the door in the face of the angry wind. I immediately felt the warmth, realized the alternate worlds silence, and felt the calming, comforting gaze of the curious calf in your picture…even before I saw it. Great writing, and photos as usual.
Bless You
paul
Hi Paul, lovely to see you.. she is beautiful calf.. that is Queenie Wineti, a lovely heifer!