Our Valentine's Day surprise

For the last few days, we've had bitterly cold temperatures, with lows at zero degrees Fahrenheit. Coupled with our huge snow whomp from last week, we're definitely into winter.

We've been keeping the cows confined to the corral for a few reasons. One, there's no sense letting them out into a pasture that's sixteen inches deep in snow; two, the gates are blocked shut anyway; and three, our Angus cow Filet was due to calve at some point, and we wanted to keep her close.

Filet is what had me worried. Since she's a former range cow, she's not crazy about being in the barn, even though it offers abundant shelter and that's where the feed box is. She'll eat, then retreat back outside. During the last cold snap, I'd feed the cows in the morning and tell her, "Don't have a calf." I'd feed the cows in the evening and tell her, "Don't have a calf." I prayed, literally prayed, she would not have a calf during the cold snap. Temps that low will kill newborns.

Today – Valentine's Day – was significantly warmer, with a low of 18F. And it snowed the blessed day long – prettily but relentlessly. When I went out to feed the cows in the morning, Filet was giving low moos and acting agitated – and her udder was bagged up.

I came back into the house and told Don, "I"m 99% sure Filet is in labor."

I made it a point to trudge through the snow and check on her about every hour and a half. Later in the morning, I was amused to see Mignon, her yearling calf, avidly nursing. I haven't seen Mignon nurse for months. Evidently she smelled milk!

The temperature rose until it hit about 31F by noon. Around 2:30 pm, I went to check, and she had just – and I mean just – dropped the baby. Even better, she actually came into the barn for this! I was thrilled.

Maggie (our Jersey) was intensely curious about the new arrival, of course, and to her credit, Filet wasn't overly aggressive about it. I, however, stayed well away. I've seen bovine maternal hormones in action many times. Nope.

When I got there, the calf wasn't yet on its feet. It flopped around a few times, but the barn mats were slippery and it couldn't get much by way of footing.

Splat!

Filet is an experienced mother. I have no idea how many calves she's had, but I'm guessing at least four and probably more. The baby was in good hands.

I had to dip in and out of this scene because this is my last weekend working my online job, so I was somewhat tied to the computer. But it was hard to stay away from a new baby!

I went out to check on things before dusk to clean the barn (if I could) and feed everyone. The baby was on its feet and Filet had moved it outside ... which was probably better for its footing, to be honest.

I took the opportunity to clean the barn, keeping a very wary eye on Filet. She bellowed and lunged at one point, and I didn't argue – I ducked back behind the gate. Mostly it was just blunder, but not all of it. Filet is a big cow and I wasn't taking chances.

I mean, c'mon ... would you mess around with this mama?

The baby wandered in and out of the barn, greeting its new herd mates.

Mignon, the calf's big sister, seemed calm and interested in the newborn.

When I left them for the evening, the calf was juuuuust on the verge of finding the faucet. A belly-ful of warm colostrum, and the calf will be just fine in the snow, especially since we're actually on a warming trend.

I'm about 80% certain the baby is a girl, but obviously I wasn't going to peek under its tail to confirm. However on the assumption that's correct, what shall we call our Valentine's Day calf?

A day in the life of a freelance writer

"Well," I said on Monday afternoon, crossing my arms and turning in my desk chair to face Don. "I think I've had a reasonably productive day as a freelance writer."

The context of this comment came on the heels of getting laid off from my online day job last Friday. Rather than seeking another online position or an in-person job in the closest town, Don and I decided to throw ourselves full-time into freelance writing.

"You should write about that," he joked back. "A day in the life of a freelance writer."

I thought that was a good idea, so here goes.

I'm an early riser, so I was up by 4:30 am. I started a fire in the wood cookstove and boiled water for tea. I made sure there was enough water left in the kettle, which I kept on the wood cookstove, for Don's coffee later on.

By 5 am I was on the computer, working on my daily half-chapter for my latest category romance novel. This daily word count will allow me to complete the manuscript within a month. I drank my first cup of tea during this process.

Don was up by 6:30 am, so I poured his coffee, then kitted up in coat and mud boots to wade through the snow toward the barn: Cleaning up, feeding the cows, topping off their water. I was back in around 7 am, at which point I made myself another cup of tea, let the parrot out of her cage for some cage-free time, and caught up on the morning news. (The parrot likes to sit on my hand for about 90 minutes each morning, so I can't get any writing done during that time. It's my "read the news" time instead.)

Don and I had an appointment in the morning with our mechanic to get a repair job done on one of the vehicles. We drove into town, dropped off the vehicle, and on the way home we hammered out some story pitches for Backwoods Home Magazine/Self-Reliance, which Don wrote down while I drove.

After lunch, Don pushed some snow around with the tractor while I started sending pitches to various editors. I launched seven pitches at Lehman's (I write for their blog). My contact liked the ideas and said she has her content meeting tomorrow and will get back to me.

I received an unrelated email from the editor at Grit, so I took the opportunity to ask for the editorial calendars for both Grit and Mother Earth News so I could pitch accordingly. She wrote back a very nice email (and cc'd the MEN editor as well), saying she will like whatever I write, so just send some pitches. Poor ladies, I sent back no fewer than 18 ideas. It was late in the afternoon when I sent them, so I didn't expect to hear back for a day or two at least.

Meanwhile, Don started researching a new magazine to query regarding some of the interesting sights we saw on our last short trip to Montana we took in September. He also rough-finished a previously requested article for Backwoods Home Magazine which he hopes to finalize and submit within a day or two.

In the late afternoon, I went out to clean the barn, top off the cows' water tank, and feed them. We've been giving them a little extra food to help retain body heat, since we have bitterly cold temps moving in.

On Tuesday morning, after barn chores were finished, we helped Older Daughter box up her massive order of tankards for shipment. We walked the dog, then both sat down at our computers again. Don finished his Backwoods Home article and sent it to me for review. I threw in a load of laundry and began editing the article.

In the late morning, we requested a phone consultation with our Backwoods Home editor and told her about the job loss and our interest in pitching more stories. Normally this could be covered in an email, but we had a couple of unusual ideas to talk over with her, easier done on the phone.

After lunch, we finalized our list of about 25 pitches and sent it in to Backwoods Home. While Don worked on splitting some firewood, I started my half-chapter fiction writing for the day.

In the late afternoon, after barn chores and walking the dog, Don worked on some tax stuff (we have our appointment next week) while I edited and finalized the article he sent me earlier.

Once the various editors decide which pitches to accept, they'll assign due dates and (in some cases) word counts. We will calendar the due dates – we're rather obsessed with never missing a deadline – and start working on whatever article is due first.

If these pitches pay off – and we're reasonably confident most of them will – we should have a nice steady freelance income for the next couple of years, solely from the magazine writing. This doesn't include anything earned from the fiction side of things.

So yeah, that's a day in the life of a freelance writer. A lot of hustling, but a lot of freedom too. And it's all because I got laid off from my day job.

The overworked tankard-maker

Older Daughter has been slamming through the first of several massive tankard orders from her customers. We're talking anywhere from 300 to 500+ pieces per order.

This particular production run was somewhere on the order of 190 pieces.

Needless to say, she's been burning a lot of midnight oil to meet her deadlines.

So when a friend of hers put together a cartoon meme titled "The Overworked Tankard-Maker," she cracked up.

This is her.

Very accurate. And it gave Older Daughter some much-needed levity during a very busy time.

Super Bowl Sunday (yawn)

True story.

Back in 1989 when Don and I were dating, we were both living in Davis, California, an extraordinarily flat college town where there were far more bicycles than cars. Seriously, everyone rode bikes, and the whole town was designed around that concept, which was actually very cool. (This was back in the 80s. I don't know what it's like these days.)

One day in early February, I rode my bike a few blocks away to where Don was living. The streets were extra quiet because it was Super Bowl Sunday and everyone was inside watching the game.

When I arrived, Don was out on his front lawn, his bike upended in front of him, working on the chain. For some reason, this surprised me.

"Why aren't you inside watching the game?" I asked. "It's Super Bowl Sunday."

"Well..." He shrugged. "I'm just not that into football."

I distinctly remember looking at him and thinking, "Hmmm. This is someone I could get serious about..."

A year later, we were married. The rest is history.

The reason I tell this story is just this morning, Super Bowl Sunday, we woke up and were drinking our morning tea/coffee and reading the news online. I saw something football-related, so I turned to him and asked, "Is today Super Bowl Sunday?"

"No idea," he replied. He checked online and confirmed it was.

Happy sigh. That's one of the reasons we've experienced nearly 35 years of marital bliss so far.

Well, that didn't take long....

A couple of days ago, I posted about how we're going to gradually start monetizing this blog. The reason? We were bracing ourselves to lose one of our larger income streams, and therefore we were looking for ways to bring in supplemental revenue.

Well, it all went down faster than we thought. On Friday, we learned I was being laid off from my online job. Grunt. This fills me with mixed emotions. On one hand, I very much like my coworkers, and will miss working with them. On the other hand, the hours were long and I won't miss getting up at 4:30 am to start work by 5 am.

As with anyone facing a layoff, Don and I staggered around in shock for a few hours after we got the news. Last night we held a budget summit during which we mapped out our monthly and yearly expenses, and identified where we can cut back. Discretionary spending, of course, is being severely curtailed until further notice.

We recognize we're wildly fortunate, for a number of reasons:

• We have no mortgage. We own our home outright.

• Our living expenses are very low. After decades of frugality, we have black belts in frugality. That experience is coming in handy right now.

• We have other income streams, albeit not as large or as stable as the one we just lost.

So our task right now is to adjust our expenses to our reduced income, while simultaneously working to increase that income. We are SO used to his. We've done it many times before. It's not a hardship, it's a challenge.

In a way, I'm looking forward to my last day of work. It will allow me to devote more time to writing, which is how I'm hoping to ramp up our revenue. I'll be approaching the various editors I've worked with over the years and pitching additional material. Don and I will also be querying about new publishing opportunities to see if we can broaden our writing credits.

So while a door is closing, some windows are opening. It's just another adventure.

Snow whomp + power outage

If I've been silent for the last couple of days, it's because we finally got our power back on. It went out late Tuesday night after we got a snow whomp. It looks like winter arrived at last.

I mean, seriously. While the rest of the country already had their snow whomps, we were mild and snow-free. Sure, we had some chilly temps, but otherwise bare ground.

All that changed this past week. At first it was just a soft and picturesque snowfall of a couple inches.

The cows didn't seem overly fazed.

Most of the snow melted off over the next couple of days. And then, overnight, WHOMP.

Unsurprisingly, we lost power during this blitz. Out here, the power grid goes down for seemingly any reason: a heavy snowfall, a wind, a Tuesday. We knew this was likely to happen and had everything prepped just in case.

The cows were a little more fazed by this snowfall. We decided to keep them in the corral for immediate access to shelter. Filet, our stand-offish formerly-range-cow Angus, is due to calve sometime in the next month (probably less), and we don't want to be chasing down a new baby in deep snow on the far side of the pasture.

I took a yardstick into the yard and measured how much snow fell overnight.

Twelve and a half inches of new snow, and we've gotten more since.

It almost came over the tops of my boots.

The effect was very pretty...

...especially after the clouds cleared and it turned into a strikingly sunny day.

The snowfall was an opportunity for every man in the neighborhood to climb onto whatever equipment he had available, and work to clear the road. I counted at least six different neighbors on six different pieces of equipment, not counting Don's efforts.

I kept the bird feeder filled, since I knew the feathered ones would have a hard time finding food under such conditions.

The quail had to literally break trails in the snow.

Since Older Daughter's side of the house isn't heated during power outages, she let Frumpkin (her cat) into the main part of the house (making sure Lihn the parrot was safely in her cage, of course). Frumpkin was fascinated by the activity at the bird feeder. Cat TV.

Toward dusk, we took Mr. Darcy for his afternoon walk and noted a large herd of elk, at least 25 animals, spread across a neighbor's field.

We lit the oil lamps and settled in for an evening of reading. Frumpkin was perched on Older Daughter's lap, looking quite pleased with himself.

The power stayed off for forty-eight hours, through clear sunny days and very dark nights.

Don used the back blade on the tractor to plow the lower driveway.

Frumpkin stayed in the main part of the house, looking very cute...

...while Darcy looked very worried. "That cat isn't supposed to BE here."

The power came back on early Friday morning and life got back to normal. And the elk? Well, they went strolling by right below the house. Gorgeous.