As the Better Half and I approached the tack barn this morning at dawn, the temperature (not the windchill) varied from -21℉ to -23 ℉. It was cold! The Daughter Person's horse needed feeding and the horse's owner was otherwise occupied tending to her daughter, our granddaughter, ill with a cold. A similar routine had occurred twice Saturday, driving to the barn in my Jeep to feed the horse, but the cold hadn't been quite as ferocious. Of possible interest: the horse's name is Quinn and, triggered by the temperatures, I was starting to remember some of the lyrics to Dylan's Quinn the Eskimo. (I wonder if we could get Dylan's "Mighty Quinn" to visit the White House and Congress. Click link, see first verse.)
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| our Quinn: the horse, not an Eskimo
Photo by J. Harrington
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Anyhow, the forecast is that Tuesday's temperature should reach 43℉, a more than 60℉ shift in about half a week. That's insane, but I'm looking forward to an early January thaw after which temperatures for the rest of the month may mostly be more reasonable and seasonable, in the 20's above zero range. Don't forget to celebrate Winter Solstice a week from today!
Much to the joy of my taste buds, and the dismay of my blood sugar, we have entered Christmas cookie season. Daughter person will be dropping off some frosted cookies later today and the Better Half has promised to bake some raspberry jam thumbprint cookies soon. I will do my best to pace myself rather than pig out. I don't want Santa to put me on the naughty list and deliver coal in my stocking, increasing my carbon footprint. I wonder if the IPCC, or anyone, has talked to the jolly old elf about a fossil fuel phaseout? Maybe instead of coal, he could leave naughty kids sand to pound?
This year's Christmas tree has remained upright for the past week, for which we are grateful. It's now decorated but I've not had an opportune time to take pictures.. Maybe this coming week. The outside lighting is delightful and cheery. I've already received an early present, an indoor lavender plant that is now living in a South-facing window well. It gives me something to enjoy from now until Spring green-up. Being "of Irish descent," I do prefer green to white and the color lavender, I think, looks better against a green instead of a white background.
Now, in alignment with today's posting and the season, please enjoy this poem:
Let’s just put it this way: They didn’t start calling him “Jolly” Old St. Nicholas until after he got the reindeer.
cc/wickimedia commons
‘Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the stable,
Poor Santa was fretting if his horses were able.
The toys were all ready
But the horses were not.
With his sleigh pullers ailing,
Santa was quite distraught.
All the IVs were hung
on the stall fronts with care,
some legs had been cold-hosed
‘til the vet could get there.
Poor Bella had rainrot
And Gordo had thrush
Jellybean pulled a muscle
When he spooked at a brush
Though sometimes dear Rhoda
Could be very sweet,
Christmas Eve she decided to go into heat.
Old Roger was moonblind,
And Jake was too green
Pete had colic or gas–
It remained to be seen.
Trouble was best,
But he has the Cushings.
If he they took him unclipped,
He’d look like a Wookie.
Santa sat on a bucket,
And looked down the barn row
Wondering how he would get to and fro.
The vet bills were growing
They’d make Mark Cuban balk.
Half his elves don’t make toys now,
Instead they hand walk.
As Santa sat moaning
He looked out on the snow.
And saw eight wild reindeer,
With nowhere to go.
“It just might be crazy,”
Said St. Nick full of bliss
“But eight crazy reindeer
Would be better than THIS!”
So that’s how the reindeer
Came to be Santa’s hitch,
And there’s never a colic
Nor a last minute glitch.
The horses retired
But they still hear the bells,
And each Christmas Eve
all their knees start to swell.
Merry Christmas!
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind
to each other while you can.
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