We had the most gorgeous snowfall this week. Without a breath of wind, the flakes settled six inches deep and positively decorated the landscape until it looked like we were living in a postcard.
The chickens, of course, wanted nothing to do with it. White stuff -- oooh, scary.
But finally some of the more venturesome clucks braved the cold. Here's my beloved Smoky, belly-deep.
Matilda didn't hesitate...
...but Amy and Hector held back. Too much white stuff, the wimps.
But the scenery was beautiful.
Every least little branch was laced with snow...
...as well as rose bushes,
The snow kept sliding off the roof with loud whooshing noises.
This would set Lydia barking and growing ferociously at that mean ol' snow. Then she would come into the house with jingleballs of snow between her toes...
...which she would then chew off.
The turkeys wandered by in stately grandeur, stepping through the deep soft snow like herons in water.
As I post this, the temperature is rising and the thermometer is supposed to hit 40F today. So much for a white Christmas, I fear. Still, it sure was pretty while it lasted.