Relative Something

As of this morning, I would say the weather service delivered accurate warnings about this “historic” winter storm. Unfortunately, Asher decided the snow gave him freedom to do whatever he pleased, leading me on a near heart attack march through the deep drifts, following his tracks up 650th St. to convince him to get to the barn, “NOW!”

Not sure if his e-collar was not tight enough or if he had gotten out of range, but it is now much tighter and set to a higher level of getting his attention and cooperation.

Before he disappeared on me, I paused to take a picture of the drift off the roof.

Down the hill in the woods, I saw him stop to poop. After a few steps of trudging through the snow somewhere near where our trail should have been, I looked for his fluorescent orange vest and couldn’t find it. Hustling through the deep snow to find his tracks, I could see he was off on a leaping run and never spied him again until I had huffed and puffed my way across most of our acres to the road. Then it took cresting the hill to the north and spotting him a mile ahead of me. It was so far that I struggled to identify whether he was still moving away from me or coming back.

It took losing sight of him behind a rise in the road to figure it out.

The horses are coping the way horses do. I don’t know if they experience regret, but I hope Mia is cognizant of how hard I was pleading with her to accept a cover before the storm arrived.

Sadly, the wind direction at the start of the snow was from the east and blew right under the overhang. It has switched now, so they at least have that level of relief from the blizzard.

Now I’m headed out to see if I can put a mid-storm dent in the drifts over the driveway with my Yamaha Grizzly 660.

This is one instance when I will have no problem allowing “good enough” to prevail over the usual target of perfection.

.

.