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I pulled on my heavy wool socks then my insulated boots, insulated bib coveralls and brown duck jacket, a wool hat and heavy gloves. Feeling like that proverbial sausage stuffed into its casing, I clomped my way out the door to do chores. It was one of those record setting cold mornings where the temperature finally bottomed out at -34.

I had tucked the horses into the barn the night before when the temperatures started plummeting – even the house protested the rapid drop with its timbers making loud cracking noises as it adjusted to the temperature. The snow crunched loudly underfoot as I made my way to the barn. Lessons learned in past winters ensured that I inhaled slowly so my nostrils would not freeze shut and also send me into a coughing fit when the blast of cold air hit my lungs. My eyelashes quickly began to frost up giving me perfect white mascara. After scooping some oats into a bucket, I opened the barn door and was met with a gentle nicker from the geldings – always anxious for his morning feed. Their body heat had warmed the barn to a balmy zero degrees during the night and the boys were mellow and sleepy-eyed with pleasure.

Air is sparse and feels much like the high mountain zone when you’re pitching hay into the feeder rescued from the previous week’s blizzard which piled the snow five feet deep into the corral. Soon, despite the frigid air, I was sweating underneath my layers. Steam rose from the heated water tank creating perfect frosty strings around its edges, goldfish slowly swimming in its depths. I paused to admire the perfect blue skies and the sunshine attempting to raise the temperatures a few degrees. A flash of blue from the still snow-covered pine branches caught my eye along with the shrill call of a Blue Jay in the still air – begging for their peanut breakfast.

Halters removed, the horses slowly made their way to the open barn door – pausing to take in the cold air outside. They stepped out and drank deeply of the fresh cold water – goldfish nibbling at their lips for stray particles of feed. Raising their heads, they alerted me to a magnificent white-tailed buck making his way to the shelter of the pines.

Harley was the first to run – his youthful exuberance for life showing in the leaps and bounds he took as he plunged through the belly deep snow. His mottled coat of black and white melded perfectly with the cloud of snow rising from his flying hooves. Soon, the older geldings were enticed into participating in the game of snow tag as they ran and sparred in the frigid air. Clouds of vapor emitted from their flared nostrils as they snorted their pleasure.

Yes, it would be easier to not have animals to care for in these cold winter months as I rubbed my fingers aching from the cold. But then I observed the geldings showing their uninhibited joy at their freedom to enjoy a sunny day – and found my own pleasure in the frigid days of winter.