Frigid Morning
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Once I am down the stairs my routine begins. I read a passage out of my Bible, I make an entry in my log book about yesterdays events, and then I cook breakfast for myself and my brother (sometimes my parents, too). I am now on my second day writing this, I am listening to lunch being seared in a pot. The howling wind has now brought snow. It is 6 o' clock and I am now outside. The darkness is pierced by my head lamp, the silence is broken only by my micro spikes crunching through the ice, it is very peaceful. I walk up the hill to the barn. It is an old barn, some parts of it are from the 1840s. It is a frail and decrepit thing, destined for being brought down in a few months. I went to the dog shed, it is a part of the barn. It sits on a concrete pad 32'' off the ground. The wooden walls are partly covered in red paint. We have three dogs; Jack, a Black mouth cur, Boy, a Blue heeler, and Shultz, a German short haired pointer. I open the slider door and greeting me is the whimpering of Boy as he runs side to side with his chain full extended. Jack stretches out and waits patiently. Shultz makes little hops with his front feet. Shultz and Boy hop in and out of the shed. As soon as I exited the shed Boy was the only one that stayed by my side. I walked down the ally way and flipped the light switch above my head on a beam. I opened the gates to let the sheep out, they bleat a little as they begrudgingly walk out side, down the embankment and into the field to a round bale. The sun is now peaking above the horizon, it will soon be bright enough to turn off my head lamp. I then feed Chè one of our breeding rams and Chester our gimpy bull calf.
With the barn work done, it is time to start the real work.
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