Seven below zero this morning, and it's suppose to stay cold a few more days. Is it possible to have a favorite manure pitching fork? I guess so because when I couldn't find the right fork this morning. I thought my day was off to a rotten start. One of our newer horses has decided coming in at night is not what he wants to do anymore. Chasing him in the dark and cold at 8pm at night when all others have raced to get in the barn is frustrating. We finally achieved this with a great sense of accomplishment and feeling of being one with the horse.
I think my fingers should be thawed out by noon.
A poem for you:
It's winter here in Minnesota
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
At thirty-five below.
Oh, how I love Minnesota
When the snow is up to your butt.
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.
Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So I guess I'll hang around.
I could never leave Minnesota
I'm frozen to the friggin' ground!
I think my fingers should be thawed out by noon.
A poem for you:
It's winter here in Minnesota
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
At thirty-five below.
Oh, how I love Minnesota
When the snow is up to your butt.
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.
Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So I guess I'll hang around.
I could never leave Minnesota
I'm frozen to the friggin' ground!
RSS Feed