We got another, oh, 100" of snow on Friday. OK, so maybe it was only 10". The good news is, we recently got a snowplow blade for our ATV. The bad news is, one of the back tires was very, very flat. So Pappa Bear took it off Friday morning so we could drop it off in Waconia and have it repaired by the time he came home that night, so he could plow us out after the storm. The bad news is, they couldn't repair it. The bad news is, they didn't carry that tire. The bad news is, you have to replace both back tires if you replace one. The good news is, the Goodyear store in Waconia could order them and have them in Saturday morning. The bad news is, it snowed 10" Friday night. The good news is, it was light and fluffy snow and a sunshiny day. Gorgeous. The bad news is, despite having a brand new snowplow in the garage, we had to shovel ourselves out today, including a good chunk of the driveway. The good news is, Pappa Bear got the car into Waconia (with the second rear tire of the ATV) and got two brand new tires. The bad news is, we just bought this ATV (used) two months ago and hadn't even driven it enough to warrant replacing two tires. The bad news is, the battery also needed replacing. The good news is, Pappa Bear remembered to pick one up Friday night when he was in Waconia seeing about the flat tire. The bad news is, after shoveling ourselves out, driving into Waconia to get two new tires and coming back home and putting them on, Pappa Bear discovered they sold us the wrong battery. The good news is, Waconia had the right battery. Pappa Bear just had to make yet another trip to Waconia. The good news is, after all of this run-around, the tires and new battery worked and we were able to plow the rest of the driveway. The good news is, I learned to drive the ATV AND use the plow. The bad news is, I made a snow angel and got snow up the back of my Carhartts. The good news is, I went for a long snowshoe hike around the yard in the sunshine. The good news is, the boys looked like angels in the snowy white pasture today while they following me around on my snowshoes. The good news is, the sunset was brilliant.

The end. The beginning. Amen.

Morning chores would probably be my favorite time of the day if it weren't for the fact that they happen in the morning. When it's cold. And dark. And my bed is warm. And soft. Getting out of bed is the hardest thing I do every day. No kidding. But once I'm up and getting dressed (preferably in front of the electric heater in the bathroom) it's pretty easy after that. Morning chores, that is. Much like evening chores, after donning all of my "smart clothes," a term I heard once from a gal in the UMD Outdoor Program, and checking the temperature via the Weather Channel ap on my iPhone, I brace myself for the cold and step outside. I soon forget about the chilly air as I anticipate seeing the boys come out of the barn in eager anticipation of their morning rations. As I slide the catch pen panel closed behind me and start filling a bucket of water from the hydrant, they usually pop right out of the barn and watch, waiting for that magical time after I disappear into the tack room and reappear with their pellets & chow. Here Boo checks on me in the tack room. Just as with evening chores (and because I have so few animals), each boy gets his own bowl, which allows me to measure and monitor how much each one consumes. For some reason Monet seems to give up eating before he is done with his ration. But he seems to relish finishing if I hold up his bowl. Perhaps he is training me? As they eat, I check the barn, add water to their heated bucket, replenish the hay in the troughs, and scoop beans (the sub-zero temps have driven them to pooping in the barn, whereas they were not doing that before). They are usually done with their chow by the time I'm finished with chores. If it's not precipitating (and by that I mean snowing like a banshee), I take a flake of hay and spread it out along the fence line, allowing them to munch in the sunshine, away from the barn. I figure it's good for them to be outside whenever they can. Which hasn't been much lately, due to the recent 3' of snow in their pastures. Truth be told, it's good for me to be outside, too, when the sun shines. Even when it's cold outside. Cheers -

My favorite time of day begins just as the work day ends. I leave my cozy upstairs office, where I have sat for most of the last eight hours with a space heater toasting my legs, and make my way downstairs into the kitchen. Turning on my CD player to some jazz Christmas tunes, I pull an apple and large carrot out of the fridge, rinsing them off under the warm faucet. Next I grab a cutting board and my favorite stainless steel knife, and slowly and carefully dice the carrot and apple into small chunks, sweeping them off the board into a small container to bring out to the barn. Setting the container of produce on the washing machine in the entryway mud room, I don my winter chore clothes: wrapping a scarf around my neck, pulling on insulated Carhartt pants, my Tingley rubber boots, an alpaca wool hat, then my insulated chore coat and insulated leather gloves, finally tucking my camera into one of the many pockets. Checking the outdoor temperature one last time, I head outside and cross the cold and snowy driveway moving towards the barn. The boys are anticipating my arrival, having set their stomach clocks to coincide precisely with when I should appear. They line up at the gate with anticipation. A far cry from the first month they were here, when they would stay as far away in the pasture as possible, and run away at my approach. I close the catch pen behind me, then head into the tack room to prepare their bowls. In the tack room I have two metal garbage cans holding pellets/chow. Honeywiese and Boo get apples and carrot and a small amount of specially formulated alpaca pellet/grain in their bowls, and they will be fed together in the catch pen. Monet is getting chow from the farm where he was boarding. He will be slowly converted to the same pellets (and treats) as the other boys over time. But for now, he gets his own food and gets to eat by himself, not having to defend his bowl against the other boys quite yet. I measure out quantities of each type of feed into three bowls and take two of the bowls out to the catch pen where I set them in two corners. Alpacas will get territorial over food and this is often the time humans will get caught in the spit-crossfire. By spreading out their bowls they have less opportunity to get upset with each other. And by placing their bowls down before I let them in, there is less chance I will be the unhappy recipient of their competition. I open the gate to the catch pen and call each of the boys by name, letting them in one at a time, but keeping Monet out. Monet does not like being kept out, but after securing the gate behind me, I give Monet his bowl of chow and watch as all three happily dig in. Satisfied that everyone has their own bowl, I begin checking the barn - their water has been freezing in the heated bucket, so we added another heating element which seems to be working. I clear floating hay out of the water and check that the temperature is still OK. I check if anyone has been pooping in the barn, and if so, I remove it with a rake and shovel, tossing it on the horse manure pile. I pull a flake of hay off of a bale in the tack room and spread it out in the big horse trough in the barn (which has been converted to a hay trough). Again being aware that alpacas like their space while eating, having hay spread throughout the long trough and more in a second, smaller trough gives them lots of options. By now the two boys in the catch pen have polished off everything in their bowls but Monet is still eating his, so I wait and watch until he finishes, then let the other boys back into the pasture. There is nothing left to do now, but I like to hang around a few more minutes, watching as they investigate the new hay in the barn, or sometimes, investigate me. My favorite thing to do is pull a folding chair out of the tack room and set it up just outside the barn door. When I am at their level like this, it seems they feel safer in investigating me as well. Monet, ever the sweet boy, often gives me greetings (sniffing my forehead or nose). Even Boo is getting a lot braver, standing near me and sniffing my gloves, knees or boots. This entire routine takes only 15-20 minutes total, but time seems to stand still as I spend time with these magical animals. The first night Monet arrived, I went out to the barn right before heading to bed. I wanted to make sure everyone was OK, especially Monet, in his new surroundings. It was pitch black outside, but the barn has electricity and lights, which I clicked on as I slipped inside the tack room and opened the inside door to the barn. Instead of startling and running outside immediately, as Honeywiese and Boo so often do, all three just looked at me with curiosity, large brown eyes framed in lashes so long you can't believe they are real. They all continued to stand around munching on hay, completely unconcerned with my presence. I sighed without realizing it, and a feeling washed over me that I can only describe as coming home to a place I never knew I had left. Blessings -

I have discovered the boys love love love to eat their morning hay outside of the barn. I can put fresh hay into the hay bins in the barn, and they will not run to it like they do when I spread it out along the fenceline. There must be something about fresh air and sunshine that makes it taste better. I know whenever I am camping and eat outside, it tastes better for me, too. Where do you like to eat your breakfast?

My beautiful boy Monet arrived today! He looks so much different than the first time I saw him. Here he is on the day we met. All those curly locks grew out into a gorgeous fleece in a scrumptious shade of fawn. I love the fiber on this boy. I just want to bury my hands and face into it and melt. Of course, Monet might not appreciate that. So I'll let him settle in for awhile without subjecting him to any of my idiosyncrasies. The light was fading fast after my guests - the mentor farm I've been working with for the past two years, Dave & Betty Carlson of Spirit Song Alpacas - departed. So I don't have many pictures yet. But I will, I will. All my boys are here now. And I'm going to go visit my girls this weekend. Life is good. Amen.

I have a confession to make. I have been using treats to train the boys to come in from the pastures whenever I go out to the barn. Most of the time, it is purely for their benefit. They get to chow down on their apples and carrots and don't have a care in the world. But sometimes... when I get them in the catch pen, we work on haltering or leading or (gasp!) herd management chores like taking temps or even (gross!) fecal samples or getting shots. If your 'pacas aren't trained to come in for some kind of signal, if they run away whenever they see a hooman in their territory, it's awfully, awfully hard to get them into an area where you can safely contain and work with them. They were only eating pasture when they arrived here, no grain, no hay. So they never voluntarily came into the barn or the catch pen area before. But apples, apples have lured them in. At first, only Honeywiese was brave enough to check out the white dog bowl with apple chunks in it. But over time, even Boo got in on it. And now, he is the first one to stand at the gate waiting to be let in. We may, however, have to work on curbing his enthusiasm. He's getting a little spitty around the treat bowl. C-baby found out first-hand yesterday, when she got a carrot-chunk hair spray. Manners are always required, even if you are an alpaca. Boo will soon learn that spitting will cost him his treats altogether. And then, you know what he'll say... "Boo-hoo!!!" Sorry. I'm a sucker for a bad pun. Cheers!

What a busy weekend. Pappa Bear and I started cooking Sunday around 8am and the last guests left our house around 10pm last night. Needless to say, I don't want to do much of anything today. I'm beat. Dead. Tired. Despite my weariness, I would like to show you some pics of PB cooking and of the nifty little antique disk tiller my father brought down for us, an anniversary present. I'm sure this is not a common item to have on one's wish list, but we are so excited as we will be able to rehab the pastures here next spring - and other pastures in our future wherever we finally settle down. Here, Pappa Bear trusses the turkey. I loved the soft light coming in the windows. Final touches before it went into the oven. Whenever PB concentrates, you can see the furrow between his brows. A new recipe for sweet potatoes with a caramel topping. Scrumptious! The antique disk tiller. Dad got this when it was already an antique, over 40 years ago when he was building my parents' house on Lake Superior, to clear the lawn areas. It has sat outside for over 70 years and is not rusting. Why don't they make things like this anymore? Dad had loaded it up on his trailer all by himself. We wondered how he got it on, and how we were going to get it off again, when we noticed his ratchet winch. He is so clever. All hooked up now and ready to roll over to its parking spot. Notice the brand new plow on the ATV? PB installed that over the long weekend also. The boys were watching with curiosity as PB parked the disk. Happy Thanksgiving from Zoey and all of us!