The hen house buried in snow.
Wednesdays are usually a good day for me to get some serious time in the studio. The kids have school, of course, and they all have activities after so no one gets home until 5:30 and Doug goes down to the city. With my recent difficulties in getting back to a steady painting schedule, a full day was looking like a good way to get a jump start. However, real life and Mother Nature have decided for me that today is not the day. We had at least two feet of snow last night and it's still coming down. In fact it is a blizzard, reminiscent of my childhood winters in Minnesota. So it's a snow day, we are all home and while I may be able to get a bit of painting done (tv will be allowed today), it's not going to be a good long painting session.
My quick morning trip to the hen house turned into an hour long suicide mission. I had to shovel some kind of crazy path off the porch, across the yard, and through a five foot snow bank (courtesy of the very efficient snowplows that were out all night). I had to go back and forth several times because I couldn't carry everything through the snow in one trip. I also had to dig out to the door of the hen house, in order to get in. I am pretty sure that I pulled all of my upper body muscles about ten different ways and my fingers and toes still hurt from the cold. There was much cursing when I sunk into snow up to my waist and had to flail about wildly in order to get out. I knew that no one would be coming out to help me, because everyone, including Doug, was inside still sleeping in warm comfy beds.
I better get some really good chocolate today.