Farmers Weekly Review

A light snow arrived after New Year’s Day, and my soul cued up the song “Snow” from Irving Berlin’s musical, “White Christmas.”
The white stuff compelled me to plug our exterior Christmas lights back in after previously retiring them for the season. I wanted photos of our lit, snow-capped roof line and the warm white lights glowing through the snowy bushes.
Yes, snow sometimes deserves the four-letter word status, but forget about the wet boots at the back door, the treacherous road conditions or the livestock and barnyards that need scooped out.
Disregard the people who escape to Florida because of it, or the life-altering chaos of breaking both arms while sledding with your kids in a cattle pasture (yeah, that happened to someone).
Enjoyed in the moment, snow brings peace. It delivers calmness. The precipitation generates a serene feeling unmatched in any other season. It makes us crave beef roast and chicken pot pie, a fire in the fireplace, a blanket and a book. The snowy landscape glistens, producing reflections at sunrise that rival bodies of water. The white stuff magically turns barrenness to beauty, and the glow of a barnyard light on a fresh batch defines silent night – calm and bright.
During my country travels, I appreciate the high contrast as the snow accents every leafless branch of a tree. It adds elegance to everything brown and provides evidence of presence by humans, wildlife, tractors, sleds and snowmobiles. While our chickens hesitate to step out of the coop when they see a carpet of white, our cows stand majestically beautiful and undeterred with snow on their backs.
Freshly fallen snow likens a new jar of peanut butter, highly tempting to disturb. The kids eagerly oblige. Snow spawns some of our fondest family memories of snowmen, sledding, hot cocoa and days off school. In fact, my transplanted Illinois family that lives in southern California escapes to the mountains to find snow and play in it.
Mom said our region experienced the blizzard of a lifetime one week after my birth. More than two feet of snow and high-wind conditions made Dad crawl down the roadside to work, following the tops of the fence posts that peaked from the snow.
Roads were impassable or allowed a single lane for traffic only because road crews recruited the support of end loaders to make a path. We don’t need too much of a good thing.

About the author: Joanie Stiers farms with her family in West Central Illinois, where they raise corn, soybeans, hay, beef cattle, backyard chickens and farmkids.