Boot weather.
On Monday, November 11 it started snowing early in the morning. I was reminded of the Armistice day blizzard of 1940. Luckily, it stopped snowing around noon. I forgot what I hated most about winter until it started snowing. It's not the snow I hate, it's boot weather. Specifically, it's my left boot. It's a sock sucker. Slowly my sock starts sliding down my leg until it's wadded into the toe of my boot. I can't walk more than 100 yards before my foot is completely naked. Rubberbands haven't helped, tucking my pant leg inside my socks hasn't helped. Not even wearing socks that reach up to my chin has helped. I'd switch to one of my 17 other pairs of winter boots, but each one has another unique fault. One pair makes obscene noises when I walk, another rubs my ankle raw, and then there's the boot with a mysterious hole somewhere that water keeps seeping in. I don't dare buy another pair because Keith's convinced it's not the boots, it's me.
The farm is set for winter. Hay is stockpiled in the pasture, ready to feed. The pigs are out of the pasture until the ground is frozen. This prevents them from damaging the cover crops which will be the first areas they graze this spring. Six new pasture water stations for the cattle are almost complete. This was the last big project of the year. On Monday, during the snowfall, we finished trenching the lines.
I am working on my annual list of what I'm thankful for in time for Thanksgiving. At the top of my list is wonderful, supportive customers like you, thank you!