I AM done digging out. Thanks for asking.

The snow is still waist deep but, fortunately, all the paths we walk here in the winter have been shoveled. It's something like a labyrinth right now on the farm.

The day after the storm, when the winds were really strong, I came to terms with the fact that I HAD to take my compost out to the pile outside. I had no more strength in my shoulders to actually the shovel the long path out there, but, the container on my kitchen counter would just no longer accept any more foodscraps.

Normally this is Ella's job, but seeing as the snow levels at her chin, I didn't think it'd be all that fair to send her out there. It would be hours before I saw her again. So, I pulled on my snow pants and Muck boots and took a deep breath before I tackled the 100 yard stretch through the tundra to the compost heap.

Earlier that morning, Bill headed north to the mountain with his snowboard. He waited at the lifts for about a half hour while they dug out from underneath five feet of snow. The winds were strong, 70mph, and by 8:30 am, the mountain decided to close for the day. Bill, snowboard in hand, located a snowmobile path that traversed a path up to the top of the mountain and proceeded to hike TO THE TOP.... earned his ride down.

About halfway to the compost heap, I decided he was fucking crazy. I was breaking each step of the path with my thigh, rocking back and forth twice to get momentum for the next step, all the while balancing the compost bucket in the crook of my right arm. My two dogs followed behind me, thinking, surely, that I was taking them on a hike...of all days. The winds were harsh and, for the most part, I could hardly see three feet in front of me.

At one point, in the quiet of the pasture, just the sound of winds blowing through, a handful of red onion skins blew off the top of the bucket and rolled, like tumbleweed across the snow. It was like a scene from blizzard western ghost town.

But, at least it's winter in February.