TGIS ... Thank God It's Snowing

It's Friday, but one can forget the, oh, so mundane "TGIF" salutation on this glorious Friday.  For today in Central New York, it's all about its long forgotten cousin "TGIS"... Thank God Its Snowing!  Oh, and it has been so so long. 

Syracuse usually secures between 100 to 200 inches of snow a year. We pride ourselves on so little, but Syracuse Basketball and 20 feet of snow will make our chests swell with honor.

Yet, this year has been different.  No, not different in the way of Lady Gaga or the duck billed platypus.  We've had no snow to speak of this winter.  In mid January of 2012 and up until today (Friday the 13th), this winter has only blessed us with a mere pittance of a wimpy dusting of snow ... for the whole winter.  Now if it seems to you that I'm one of those odd frozen ducks who loves the white frozen happiness that falls so gently from the heavens... I'm sure it was a lucky guess.

Yes, Al Gore's Global Warming has reared it's ugly head in Central New York.  The shame of it all.  We water skied the week before Halloween.  We jogged in early December in tee shirts and shorts.  The horses have been caked in mud from what seemed like the never ending Spring. This has been the first green Christmas since Nixon was not a crook.
But today, Friday the 13th, behold the eternal beauty of snow.  We've had close to a foot of the hardened H2O today and more to come tomorrow, the 14th.   Yes, we're talking the proverbial "Winter Wonder Land" and "The Luster of mid-day of objects below"

We can make snow angels, snow men, snow caves, snow balls and snow forts like we were once again 10 years old with our frosted wool mittens barely able to bend in the subzero arctic cold. 

We can trudge to the mail box watching our foot prints form deep craters in the alien like land ... and then carefully trace our own foot steps back as if to hide from the hounds sniffing the scent of our trail.

We can feel the cold pinching our rosy cheeks like an over affectionate grandma on holiday schnapps binge.

The horses can dance, play and roll in the snow and survive perfectly cleansed, except for the odd little icicles that dangle from their whiskers.

Yes, I love the snow.  Yes, I'm a little different.  No, not like Lady Gaga.

Be Back Soon for the Winter

Winter is almost here. In fact, they received 18 inches of snow South and East of here a few days before Halloween. My brother, who lives 3 hours southeast of here, a bit closer to New York City, was without power for a week. He and his family moved in with friends until the power came back. You know you live in upstate New York when the kids have snowsuits under their Halloween costumes.

So much has happened since we last spoke... can't wait to tell you all about it.

"Bobbie No Socks The Life of Horse Ownership" will be back soon for the long winter.

White Out in Orange Land

In addition to being our horses indentured servants, we're also slaves to our passion for Syracuse University basketball. Last Saturday, the Orangemen were away playing Louisville. For the week prior to the game, our anticipation was building as we'd not beaten Louisville away in close to a decade.

However, our dreams of victory were seemingly squashed within milli-seconds of the tip off as the result of some insane 3 point shooting by the enemy Cardinals from Kentucky. Rick Pitino, the Louisville coach stood smugly on sideline while Syracuse's coach, Jim Boheim, tried to calm his team by screaming profanity at them (I'm sure he's warm and fuzzy on non-game days). Unfortunately, Syracuse was down by about 20 points by half time.

When the second half began, I happened to glance up quickly from the TV to check on the horses outside in the pasture and noticed that it had started snowing lightly and that there was a slight wisp of a breeze. They seemed content and my attention turned quickly back to ESPN.

Then something magical began to happen. Ever so slowly, Syracuse, with some wild three point shooting of it's own, clawed its way back into the game. Down 20 ... became down 17 ... down 13 ... to about down 9 or 10 with 3 or 4 minutes to go.

During a commercial, I noticed that the wind had picked up incredibly (35 to 40 mile an hour winds the newspaper noted later) and the snow was coming down hard enough that it was getting harder to see the horses in the pasture.

Normally, we'd see the horses out in that nasty gale and we'd race with our coat tails hap-hazardly dangling behind us to bring them in. But ... but ... there was less than 4 minutes to go in a game that had momentum clearly moving in our direction. What we couldn't see in the pasture couldn't hurt us ... right? Through the gust of whiteness, it seemed that the the horses just hunkered down.

With 1:35 left in the game, Syracuse had pulled within 3 points. I was standing in the middle of the living room so I could see the horses with one eye and the game with the other.

Fortunately or unfortunately (depends on your perspective) the horses were in a complete white-out. You couldn't seem them at all. They quite literally had disappeared. Oh well... at least I had the game.

"They'll be fine. It's far too dangerous for us to go out and bring them in now," I said to my wife as the seconds passed in the game. Unfortunately, Syracuse's comeback also disappeared and they ended up losing the game 73 to 69.

As the final buzzer sounded, we quickly grabbed our coats and boots and ran to the pastures. By the time we reached them, the horses bay coats were plastered in whiteness and icicles dangled from their whiskers, like great Arctic explorers about to plant a flag at the North Pole.

Yes, some turn their horses out for the winter, but our pampered pansies were about as happy about being sacrificed for the "love of the game" as a turkey would be for the "love of the meal" on Thanksgiving day.

Bobbie (the pony) had an incredible look of disdain and as if he were thinking, "Well, I hope your happy ... because I'm @#&@ing mad you stupid &@*#." Yes, he has a bit of a trash mouth. He's also a bit more warm and fuzzy when it's not game day.

While we had a bit of February thaw earlier in the week and one could actually see some grass, in spots, poking through the snow yesterday. Today is once again game day and the winds have picked up again to 50 mph (plus). Syracuse plays Rutgers at home at 4:00 pm and the horses are sitting warmly in their stalls. We don't want to risk Bobbie's wrath again.

There's a Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On!

The schools here were a little quick on the draw this past week. For Tuesday, the weatherman had been predicting 8 to 12 inches of snow for the day. We got a call at 5:45 am that school was canceled. Only problem was ... it was a little bit like drinking flat soda. You anticipate one thing and you get another... no fizz ... no snow.

Despite the lack of snow, there was a bit of excitement that day. My wife was walking horses out to the pasture and happened to look into the garage. As she walked by, she noticed that one of the empty grain bags by the trash can was standing straight up, shaking violently and inexplicably. She called for my 17 year old son who, anticipating a "mini-me" salsa dancer or perhaps a steroid laced mouse, tipped the bag over by tapping it with a shovel. The wild bag shaker was neither a mouse nor Charo, rather it was watermelon sized possum.

Possums are nocturnal and normally won't come out during the day unless it's too cold, at night, during the winter to secure food (yes, I love the info you can find on the Internet).

When the bag was tipped, the possum came running out of the bag like the Steelers front line towards my wife who was standing just out side the garage. She screamed running away from the possum. The possum, stopped on a dime, screamed on the inside like a horror movie heroine and decided not to leave the garage. The Possum, clearly shaken, curled up in a ball and ...decided to play ... well ... possum, just playing dead.

My son decided to leave it alone to see if it would depart on its own and took off to his girlfriends house. The possum did eventually leave the garage, but circled the house like Kujo waiting to disembowel it's next victim. Possum rarely get rabies (yes, that Internet thing).

It made its way onto our deck and decided to hang out by out back door, apparently, wanting to enter our warm home like a proper rodent would.

My wife, trapped by the deranged rodent, made the ultimate tactical error ... she called me for my advice. I quickly responded, "Cool, did you get a picture." She didn't. I told her to grab a whistle and scare it. She grabbed a whistle out of the junk drawer, ran upstairs, as I suggested, to the bathroom window and blew as hard as she could to frighten Franken-Possum-Stein away.

My advice was as useless as it always is ... as upon hearing the screeching whistle, the possum did what possums do and once again ... played possum (who knew that wasn't a myth).

The only thing the whistle blowing accomplished was spook the horses in the pasture into a wild frenzy and irritate my wife. At that point I thought it best to play possum too.

Fifteen minutes later the possum left on it's own... probably on its way to its girl friend's house.

The Fence Eating Snow Drift

No, we didn't get today's coastal snow storm that dumped another foot or so onto New York City, about five hours away. "Near Miss" was how they described it on the local news like we'd avoided a mammoth iceberg headed for our unsinkable ship.

Don't you worry about us "snow deprived" folks in Central New York though. To-date we've now been blessed with 110 inches of snow this season.

The photo to the left was taken of our hungry fence eating snow drift. Don't get too close or you'll be buried up to your neck before you can say, "Hey, isn't that a fence eating snow dri..."

Yes, the Central New York sky continues dropping snow as fast as the little snow angels can make it. If it falters for a day or two, the sky is quick to reply, "Don't worry, I'll make more." My son has had six snow days so far (no, he's not complaining) and we still have February, March and probably some April snow days to come.

While it may sound like I'm whining slightly about the snow, I should mention that it's actually been incredibly beautiful -- "a winter wonderland" is how we describe it. And ... the snowboarding on the slopes has been heavenly with day after day of amazing powder.

Of course, back on the whining front ... earlier in the week my son's school was delayed two hours and the horses were in all day becomes of -13 degree temperatures, before the hint of wind chill. Needless to say that water buckets were frozen.

However, it's hard to complain around here as somebody always has it worse. I guess a few hours North of here in Saranac Lake New York they had -39 degrees that morning. I'll keep my frost-bit whining to myself.

The Frozen Double Dog Dare

It was negative eight degrees below zero yesterday morning before windchill and the horse's water buckets were frozen solid. While it wasn't quite as cold the day before ... it was cold enough to catch Bobbie off guard.

Anybody whose grown up in cold climates has done what he did. It's a rite of passage of sorts for those who were plucked from the womb with ice tongs. You only know what I speak of if you were toddlers with frozen mittens, icy scarves and feet so cold they felt like walking on pin cushions.

We recently heard on the morning news of unfortunate waif who had to have emergency services release him from his big brother's similar double dog dare.

For those who view snow to be as mythical as leprechauns, you may want to put some more sun screen on and roll over so you don't get sun burned on this January day... for what I'm about to tell you will make your jelly fish sting burn a little less. Here goes...

If one sticks ones tongue to any metal object (flag pole, chain link fence, car door or your coats zipper), ones tongue will stick to and occasionally be trapped by said object until it is released by warmth (hot water and global warming typically work best).

Until the other day, I thought humans were the only ones who were bold enough to attempt the double dog dare. However, with the frigid temperature, Bobbie thought he'd try licking the frozen metal snap of the chain that holds his pasture gate shut. He, as we all are, was complete caught of guard by the fact that the tongue is 80% water. Who knew?

In order to free himself ... he almost pulled the gate off the post with his super equine tongue. Of course he has little hope to out do those that tow tractor trailers with their tongues in the Guinness Book of World Records (although he's in training now).

I think it hurt the poor pony a lot as he was smacking his freeze dried taste buds for a good five minutes or so. All I could say to my four-legged friend was, "Been there, done that."

A Bread Crazy German in America

We've had more pounding snow this week ... measured with yard sticks not rulers.

It normally takes me 45 minutes for my drive home from work each night. This week, as a result of the snow, I had two nightly drives of 1.5 hours and one that took close to 2 hours. That night I'd been gazing at tail lights and snow flakes for two hours which can be hypnotizing. For part of the drive I was thinking back on the blogs I'd been reading recently.

I remembered reading "A Horse Crazy American in Germany". She noted that when moving her horse to Germany, her horse was going to have to get accustomed to eating bread. Apparently, it's been common for centuries to feed horses bread in Germany.

One of our 5 horses is a mammoth 18-2 Hanoverian named Monte who was actually born in Germany. We never actually met his owner ... but he was shipped with a his passport (he has one ... I don't), a box of raisins and a note that said "he likes raisins". So, he gets raisins. He flips out when he gets the box, acting like a goof swinging his head and tongue around like he's experiencing extreme equine ecstasy.

Remembering the blog, I decided to give him half a slice of bread ... same reaction ... like he was remembering his youthful days frolicking with some Fraulein Phillie in Frankfurt. He loved the bread. However, his boorish American siblings were not as crazed about the bread.

Note: if you're going to try bread with your horses ... you may want to Google "feeding horses bread" No, not everyone in the world is convinced bread is a good idea.

That being said, I think perhaps I'll try Monte with some raisin bread. I'll probably put the poor guy into a coma. I just Googled "feeding horses raisins." See above disclaimer and substitute "raisins" for "bread".

We Live in a Giant Snow Ball

Just off the east end of Lake Ontario, Syracuse New York (the area we live and survive in) annually averages 121 inches of snow. The last few sadistic winters have been closer to 150 or 200.

The recent snows you may have heard about on the national news (we don't brag about much but snow) helped push us to almost 50 inches through December 10th of this year.

My son had 2 snow days off from school and the horses stayed warm inside their cozy stalls for 3 straight days. This of course make stall cleaning more challenging ... but at least we don't have to worry about our wimpy thoroughbreds freaking out because a couple of flakes hit their muzzles just wrong or the wind messed their manes up. A bunch of divas those thoroughbreds are ... always asking for limos, fruit trays and bottled imported room temperature water.

When it starts snowing and blowing, we can't get to our pastures the normal and easy way because we have an eight foot snow drift that drops right in the middle of the desired path. So, when the snow is not blowing sideways, for winter turnout we have to walk the long way around and normally take down some rails to get the horses in. Yesterday, I built a gate to eliminate the rail removal portion of the process. I talk more about our winter snow struggles in my February 2010 post "Equine Snow Angel":

http://bobbienosocks.blogspot.com/2010/02/equine-snow-angel.html

When I went into our shed to get some gate materials, I scared the walnuts out of a squirrel who in turn scared the crap out of me. Apparently, he'd be nesting in the shed for the winter ... the whole thing led me to have an odd dream last night about a talking squirrel, with a trash mouth and anger issues.

Anyway ... we thankfully have a little warm up today. The saying in Syracuse is ... If you don't like the weather ... just wait a couple of hours. There's a big ice storm coming.

Frigid Night Checks

It's 25 degrees and snowing on our tiny chunk of the planet tonight.

Part of my self imposed function with the horses are the nightly checks. On summer nights I can walk to the barn in 5 minutes in shorts and flip flops. In the winter, it may take 5 minutes alone just to find my gloves. Eventually the 25 degree nights become 15 degree nights. Fifteen degrees soon yields to 5 degrees which becomes negative 5 ... with a windchill of 35 below zero.

Night checks themselves are simple enough for me. I just check the water (sometimes needing to break the water with a hammer), adjust the blankets (sometimes needing to fix the buckles with a hammer), drop each horse a mint or carrot and make sure that no horse is suffering from colic, casting or bed wetting (equine bed wetting, of course, is a common incurable affliction).

Our whole family actually loves snow ... crazy yes... but we love skiing and snowboarding as much as any family. Our kids, growing up, would even superstitiously wear their pajamas inside out magically guaranteeing a school snow day.

However, opening our back door on a snowy and windy winter night for the long walk to the barn is like standing at the end of snow covered dock peering into an icy lake wearing only a bathing cap and a smile. Jump ... the waters fine.

Gotta find my gloves!

Icy Horse Halloween

Halloween played a cool little trick today with some icy snow, not so gently falling from the heavens. Clearly there must have been a cold front moving through heaven. I picture angels bundled like Green Bay Packer fans with icicles dangling from their wings and frost on the halos (or probably on their cheese heads at game time).

Today the horses are all bundled in blankets. They wanted to go out regardless and are now munching on freshly chilled grass in the pasture. "Frost on the Pumpkins" is a phrase you hear around here a lot and we've been using it this year since mid-September.

As I took a wheel barrow of manure out to dump, my fingers burned from the cold and I was quickly reminded that I needed to get new barn gloves. My old ones were thrown out on a warm day last spring. "I'll get new gloves", I can remember announcing to the world as if I were moving from the Cavaliers to the Miami Heat. Of course 90 degree days in the summer aren't always the best for marketers of winter apparel. They do seem to be good marketer's of the Miami Heat.

You know you live in Central New York, when parents annually jam snowsuits under their kids spiderman and princess costumes. Yes, they'll be a lot of overstuffed miniature ghosts prowling for candy tonight.

Time to throw another coal in the fire. Time to defrost the candy.

Eating Dirt, a Variety of Ways

My eighteen year old daughter loves everything about horses, horse shows and everything associated with the word ... "horse". She loves the smells of saddles, the sensation of landing the perfect jump, the nuzzle of a muzzle and even the endless waiting (and build of anticipation) at horse shows.

However, my seventeen year old son would rather eat dirt than step a single sneaker into the barn. He'd rather gargle glass than go to a show. Riding a horse would be less welcome than a Zombie Alien Invasion from the putrid planet of "Puke"... or whatever video game scenario applies.

While my daughter is tearing up the show ring and will jump 3 or 4 foot jumps a top her hay fuled steed, my son is shredding rails, slashing through snow and jumping 30 foot jumps aboard his gravity powered snowboard.

He loves the cold wind in his face, the feel of the ever steepening terrain as the evergreens blur by. He even enjoys the thrill (and great story) of the occasional crash.

My daughter, on the other hand, would rather eat dirt.

The Equine Snow Angel

Winters in Central New York are tough ... it's like jumping into any icy river just walking out the back door some days. With a monstrous lake effect snow machine (off Lake Ontario), on average, Syracuse NY gets dumped on with over 115 inches of snow every year, more than any other larger city in the United States. The towns up here have the tools, plows and salt to keep the roads clear, although not always with laser guided precision.

The plows sadistically knocked our fragile mail box off it's helpless post four times last month. Funny how nobody at Home Depot questions when I buy three mail boxes at a time, knowing that the average life of a rural mail box is shorter than that of a dung beetle in sub zero weather.

If you think driving and living in the snow is bad, try taking care of five horses in the winter. With layers of thick blankets, the horses still do like to stretch their stiff legs all winter long out side, which makes for brutal days of blanket changing, fighting sub zero wind chills and shoveling snow paths to the barn and pastures.

So, while I'm at work enduring the harshness of fluorescent lighting, ringing phones and the heat that just always to seems to be a degree or two off. My sainted snow angel wife is bundling with layers of long underwear, ski pants and fleece like Sir Edmund Hilary on Mt. Everest, to go out into cold. With frequent six foot snow drift blocking the way to pasture, she shovels paths to fields to get our pampered equine snow mobiles out for a few hours of snow play. Of course, there's no grass in the winter, so, she lugs hay on the kids plastic red sleds to our tundra-like pastures.

The cold actually changes the dynamic of stall cleaning. On day's like today when it's 10 degrees out (yes Fahrenheit), the horse poop freezes in the barn within minutes of it dropping from it's heated maker. So, at least, the horses can't grind it into the shavings. The snow's too freaking deep to dump the manure too far from the barn, so it gets dumped in a big pile not too far from the huge front doors. Of course, in the spring, it gets moved to another pile, closer to our unsuspecting neighbors who can't quite figure out why the damn flies are so bad in the hot summer.

Yet, even with the cold and snow, it looks absolutely amazing outside with the happy horses eating hay on the white snow covered field. As steam exhales from their muzzles,icicles dangle from their whiskers like these are mystical polar horses from arctic circle. They roll and dance in the snow like school children ecstatic with yet another snow day off from school.

My wife is a saint! A cold saint ... but a saint none-the-less -- a virtual equine snow angel.