Well, so much for sunshine.

It's still dark outside but you can hear the wind wailing. The snow is blowing so hard the fields look like they're set with fog. The neighbors porch lights look far away and fuzzy in the blow- isolated. Even though the house is warm and toasty I pull on a wool sweater and socks before cranking up the kitchen fires. Nobody has school until next week so most of the kids are still in bed, but my oldest has basketball practice. The mountain boy (bless his heart) is going to brave the weather and drive him the 12 miles into town. (Of course he really loves this kind of weather and the challenge it provides. Driving out there in the frozen tundra is not a hardship but an adventure for him. Weather like this still kind of gives me the vapors.) The coffee is perking and the men are pulling on their cold weather armor. Heavy down coats, felt-lined snow boots that lace up the shin, wool hats, gloves and warm socks. You just don't go out this kind of a storm unprepared. You never know when you might have to walk because of an unexpected breakdown or dumping the car into the ditch (or even help an unsuspecting transplanted Texan who dumped her car into the ditch).

This state is used to storms like these. Though life surely slows, nothing stops. Shops stay open, the school bell rings at the usual time (when it's not Christmas break- much to my children's chagrin), basketball practice continues (much to my chagrin). And the snow plows are out in force (our real knights in shining armor!). It is Montana, after all.

It's good to know that the animals are snug in the little red barn. I pushed a record amount of grass hay into the rabbit cages and laid out extra scoops of cracked corn and a broken open pumpkin along with the regular feed for the chickens last night in anticipation of this blow. All will be fine until daylight at least.