Ethel shares my attitude . . . .

The last week of April and this is the best we can do?  We have had days of rain, snow, rain, snow, rain, snow–equal to about three inches of precipitation (according to neighbor Tom) and I’ve had enough!  I know, I know, “we need the moisture.”  It is the mantra for high desert living but after a relatively warm March (until the final week) April has been a bust.

Robin runway . . . .

I think the Robins are contemplating a quick departure south until it warms up a bit.  The road was clear of snow for a time, and I counted about a dozen standing around like they were waiting for something to happen.  Actually, I think they are awaiting the arrival of earthworms, who have been drowned out of the underground and are headed for a sidewalk or hard surface to dry out.

Feedlot stuffing his face . . . .

Feedlot doesn’t seem to mind the big flakes falling on his back–he has his nose buried in the tender green grass that is carpeting the creek bottom.  He likely won’t like what the end result is going to be.

Familiar terrain . . . .

Looking across the driveway at the snow is more than a little depressing.  The lilac trees in the background are showing no signs of spring.

A bridge to the other side . . . .

The dry creek bed that runs under this bridge will certainly be a lively little stream as soon as all this melts.  The snow on the roof of  the house collects in downspouts and empties into the creek bed along with the accumulation on the ground.  My brother made fun of my attempt at creating “Dry Creek” in the backyard and scoffs at my little runoff remedy.  But we all share the memories of the real “Dry Creek” at flood stage cutting us off from the road to town.  I’m getting ready.

“Break out the beer and burgers–time to grill!” . . . .

These April showers won’t produce any flowers for awhile.  Three days of howling winds, blowing and drifting snow and single-digit temperatures left us longing for the end of winter.  Fighting the wind and snow to travel to the barn three times a day, as well as the chicken house and various outbuildings where all the other critters reside left tempers frayed and patience on the wane.  Fortunately we suffered no power outages which would have left heat lamps off and water bowls frozen.  I suppose in that event we would have had to move everybody inside!  I say that jokingly–I cannot imagine any more animals in the house.  We let Rosie move in for the duration, and Bleu the cat resides inside year ’round.  The baby chicks are thriving in the laundry room but are rapidly outgrowing the rabbit cage.  The weather is going to have to change so we can shuffle everybody around a bit!

“Anybody got snowshoes?”

A drift created in front of the door to the goose house made things a little interesting.  After being penned in for three days, they were soooooo glad to get outdoors, only to be confronted with a mountain of cold, white stuff. They squawked and flapped about trying to sort out what to do next.  They finally made it to high ground where the snow had blown away a bare patch and spent the day circling around in high dudgeon.

“Bird relief port in a storm” . . . .

The bird diner was doing a bang-up business.  Our feathered friends huddled in the pine tree nearby and took turns visiting the feeders for a quick bite.  Snow piled up near the bay window and framed the view.

“How am I supposed to hunt birds when I can’t see out?” . . . .

Bleu’s favorite bird watching post is obscured by snow piled up outdoors.  He waits impatiently, tail twitching back and forth and makes little snarling sounds as if to say, “enough of this already!”

A long, cold walk . . . .and a cold seat waiting . . . .

The Roosevelt is a 1930’s gift from FDR and the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC).  This wintry shot serves as a reminder of how life used to be before indoor plumbing.  And we came too close for comfort.  Life in the country can get complicated when the septic tank quits functioning and we recently experienced just such an event.  Fortunately we made the decision to save the Roosevelt.  But that’s another story.