"
I plow through the snow to the stable door. I scuff and stamp the snow
away and pull it open with difficulty. A cloud of steam arises out of
the warmth within. I step inside. My horse raises his head above the
stanchion, looks around at me, and strikes his forefoot on the stable
floor--the best greeting he has at his command for a fine Christmas
morning. My cow, until now silent, begins to bawl.
I lay my hand on the horse's flank and he steps over in his stall to let
me go by. I slap his neck and he lays back his ears playfully. Thus I go
out into the passageway and give my horse his oats, throw corn and
stalks to the pigs and a handful of grain to Harriet's chickens (it's
the only way to stop the cackling!). And thus presently the barnyard is
quiet again except for the sound of contented feeding.
Take my word for it, this is one of the pleasant moments of life. I
stand and look long at my barnyard family. I observe with satisfaction
how plump they are and how well they are bearing the winter. Then I look
up at my mountainous straw stack with its capping of snow, and my corn
crib with the yellow ears visible through the slats, and my barn with
its mow full of hay--all the gatherings of the year, now being expended
in growth.
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