Relative Something

Today’s quiz question is: What is John’s least favorite weather condition in the winter?

If you guessed rain in the great snowy north, you are oh-so-correct.

What a way to wreck perfectly good snow for outdoor recreation. Yuck. It stayed warm throughout the rain, so we dodged the dreaded icing that usually happens when the precipitation changes over to snow. There was a pause during which the temperature began its return to real cold again before the arrival of high wind and flying flakes.

I found the horses’ Jolly Ball had been carried or kicked out into the hay field. I regularly pick it up from wherever it rolls in the paddock and set it up where I hope it will entice them to play with it. It’s rarely obvious whether it gets kicked or the wind pushes it downslope a ways, but I keep resetting it for their benefit.

I’m pleased to see it occupied one or more of them long enough to end up so far from where I had left it most recently.

As we headed out into the nasty conditions to feed the horses yesterday late afternoon, I became aware of the difference between the ways Cyndie and I face the challenging weather. Largely due to the suffering she endures from the cold, Cyndie is more on the defensive against it. I hear it in the sounds she makes and the comments she utters. It leads her to be concerned that the horses might be feeling as bad about the Arctic gales as she does.

I try to play more offense, using comments that diminish the harshness and telling the horses how well they are doing as we all brave the cold and windblown snow. I talk my way into winning the battle of man against the elements.

If the weather wants to go nasty, I’ll dish out my own dose of nasty-level positivity in the finest of contrarian ways.

Take that, old Man Winter.

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