A few days ago we had a pretty snowfall.
I'm not sure the animals agreed, but after all it's their choice not to tuck themselves under the shelter of the barn awning.
Nonetheless it was a very pretty snowfall.
Even grungy old tractor tires -- awaiting their chance to be put in the garden next spring -- are transformed by snow.
However a necessary hose, accidentally left undrained, caused problems. We hauled it inside to defrost.
The view across the fields was vast. It was snowing so hard that it was difficult to avoid getting snowflakes on the camera lens.
A solitary hen braves the white stuff.
After slipping and falling several times on a sheet of ice inconveniently disguised underneath the snow, I parked this cart on top so we would avoid the bad spot.
Major is easy to distinguish in this weather -- especially when he wears snow on his back.
I went for a walk to admire the views.
And then yesterday the temperature rose and it rained and rained and rained. The snow first turned into sloppy slush, then disappeared altogether. This morning the pasture looked like this:
Ah well. As pretty as a white Christmas is, a brown Christmas certainly simplifies travel plans for those visiting others.