A cup o’ kindness

Somehow our end-of-the-year months got reversed.

Instead of the prolonged autumn we wanted, November brought wintry snow and cold

but then December warmed up, dried up

and turned everything brown again.

The poor shovel and snow-thrower fell into deep depression, questioning the very purpose of their existence. 

December started with TJ’s Cristkindl Market

where Santa’s Busiest Elf sold off most of her goats’ milk soaps, along with caramels and cajeta.

When not chatting with customers and shivering in the frigid breeze, she took time to consult with Santa about her Christmas list.

Even after the holiday sales, the Prairie Homemaker continues to experiment with new soaps

and even crafted her own butter from Jersey cream supplied by friend Leah.

MeadowWild’s goats enjoyed the mild December weather

and all of the does except Cheeky incubated cute little bundles of joy to be delivered this March.

Mojo loves being with the younger ladies; he’s kept apart from the milkers until his breeding season cologne wears off.

Momma Kitty hangs out in the east window of the garage atop hay bales

close by her feeding dishes.

The elusive yellow-orange Intruder Cat still comes in to steal Meow Mix, but doesn’t seem to disturb Momma at all.

As in Clement Clarke Moore’s Christmas poem, no mice are stirring in the barn – and not because the two barn cats are doing their duty.

Rather, the mice have been displaced by an infestation of shrews, who also eat mice – and goat food and cat food.

We wondered why the two cats are not chowing down on these plump, juicy little morsels instead of on Meow Mix.

We thought it might be because MeadowWild is a Peaceable Kingdom, like that of Edward Hicks, where the lion lies down with the lamb and all creatures live together in peace, harmony and love.

More likely it’s because shrews are fierce little critters not to be messed with.  The Minnesota DNR points out that “shrews carry an odor so vile that it keeps most mammalian predators from eating them.”

And according to an article on the weapons of this species,  “Another defense is its venom. The Northern Short-Tailed Shrew has a set of 32 extremely sharp teeth with venom glands. Although not fatal to humans, it will cause swelling and irritation. And in the Northern Short-Tailed Shrews prey, it has the ability to paralyze or kill it with a bite. Finally, it has the ability to release a foul and musky odor on their belly and sides that repel predators.” 

So the cats leave the shrews alone and coexist warily with them.  

Here Momma Kitty drinks goat’s milk out of one bowl and doesn’t seem too bothered by the shrew gobbling kibble from the adjacent bowl:

The etiquette here seems to be that which governs men’s restrooms:  keep your eyes straight ahead and pretend there’s no one next to you.

Weather folks predicted a brown Christmas 

and that’s what we got.

We might as well have been celebrating in Los Angeles.

As Ralphie says in A Christmas Story:

Despite the lack of snow there was plenty of Christmas cheer in the barn among Santa Mojo and his merry reingoats.

Although Kuiper prefers to celebrate Festivus – her favorite part being the Airing of Grievances:

Santa was very good to the Farmers, albeit entirely practical (no frivolity this year).

Barb got a Hoof Boss, to trim Mojo’s big, thick, concrete hooves.

And to make that challenging job easier, friends Ezra and McKinsey crafted this gorgeous ground-level stanchion for him.

It holds the Big Guy firmly and comfortably during the procedure.

Steve got battery-warmed gloves – just in time for the arrival of our tardy winter.

The first serious storm of the season came on Dec 27-28

bringing 8 inches of heavy, wet “heart-attack” snow

and then the temperature dipped below zero.

Wet snow enveloped the weather station and then froze, preventing it from measuring wind speed and wind chill, which is probably just as well.

The shovel and snowblower were jolted out of their blue funk and gained a new sense of purpose in life.

We probably won’t be using the kettle cooker, picnic table or hammock any time soon.

Now that it’s here, winter gives every indication of sticking around in 2019.

A polar vortex might descend in January.  Forecasters predict a high on New Year’s Day just above zero, dropping to a low that night well below zero, with a wind chill of -40.

Boy scout that he is, Dustin is prepared for the deep freeze.  In addition to his usual cozy beds

he has discovered a nook between the kitchen cabinets and cheese cave that traps warm air from the heating vent, so he hunkers down there on some fluffy padding.

As he resolves to nap more often in 2019, he joins us in wishing everyone a happy, healthy and rewarding new year (with many a cup o’ kindness).