How Snow Changes Everything
About a foot of snow fell at the ranch in the past week.
That first heavy snow lifted so much weight from my shoulders.
Maybe, just maybe, we will have good moisture for grass and hay this spring.
The prognosticators told us this snow was coming.
Of course, they have been saying that for four years.
I believed them for the first two years.
When they clamored about a big storm, I resisted believing, suspicious of such great news.
I figured the storm would stay north or just circle wide around the ranch as the others have lately.
Yet, I knew I better prepare for it, in case they were finally right for once.
I pulled my tractor into the shop.
Even though the shop isn’t heated, the tractor starts easier when it is inside.
My skid steer had been being serviced in Conrad for almost a month.
Almost always, I can make it out to the county road when it snows, but I’ve been high-centered in a snowdrift a few times. Having the skid steer to plow the driveway would be handy.
As flakes began to fall, my mechanic, Chris, said the skid steer was ready.
He even offered to put chains on the tires if I would bring the chains to his heated shop.
I jumped at that plan.
I hooked up the flatbed trailer, found my tire chains, threw in a couple of tie-down chains and chain binders, slipped the pickup into four-wheel drive and headed to town.
My education started when I pulled into Chris’ shop.
The tire chains were too small for the two new tires I had purchased.
I didn’t understand.
I purchased the same size tires as the other tires on the skid steer.
Turns out, lately all tire companies make the same radius and width of a tire, but they decide independently how high the tire should be.
My new rear tires were 3 inches higher than my old front tires.
The chains fit the old front tires, but front skid steer tires often come off the ground when scooping snow or pushing myself back out of snowdrifts.
I won’t get into the complications of our dilemma. Suffice to say, after four hours of attempted problem-solving, Chris dug around in the back of his shop and came up with two rear tires that would fit both the chains and the skid steer.
I’ll bring them back to him one of these days.
Meanwhile, enough snow had fallen to cover most of my tall grass and my cows were hungry.
I was ecstatic.
The powder in the unplowed road sprayed from my truck wheels in crispy-white, beautiful, life-giving arches.
A few minutes later, black cows kicking up white powder in Budweiser Clydesdale fashion greeted the putt-putting tractor motor.
By dusk, everyone had a full belly.
Christmas lights still hanging from my eaves glowed luminously through the snow collected on each bulb.
I took a breath of relief, hope and renewed faith in winter as I snuggled under my wool quilt.
Dawn felt just as magical.
The temperature finally registered below freezing so I added long johns to my wardrobe for the first time all winter.
The sky grew lighter as I fed the barn animals, but I couldn’t tell where the land ended and sky began.
The landscape felt eerie, mysterious, surreal -- and a bit dangerous.
As I fired up the tractor again, I counted on my knowledge of the details of the land, recounted walks and horseback rides, focused on dips and rises so I wouldn’t drive the tractor into the now-invisible creek.
Winter’s compulsory rest and renewal for the land invigorated me.
Right when I needed it most.