Since we moved here to Pipi’s Pasture (I think a little over 20 years ago), we have had the most snow that I can remember in a short period of time, and I can’t remember periods of rain with the snow before, either. This winter reminds me of winters when I was growing up on the ranch at Morapos, but there was a lot more snow at that altitude. Up at the ranch, we always measured snow by how far it piled up next to the fences.

The snow was so deep when I was a kid that we just didn’t leave the ranch very much in the winter. Mom stocked up on staple grocery items (such as sugar and flour) in the fall, and we had our own canned vegetables and fruits and meat. The Morapos School was just down the road from our house, and the teacher lived there in the teacherage so we were pretty much able to stay at home and stick out the winter snow.

We kids had trouble walking through the deep snow so Dad walked ahead of us when we went to the corral to do chores, making a path for us to follow. We went back and forth this way, the milk bucket and buckets of chicken grain dragging along in the snow.

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There’s a lot to remember about those early winters, but that’s for another column. For now I’m thinking about maneuvering this year’s snow to carry on with my usual daily schedule.

I’m fortunate to be able to work from home, but the weather has slowed my ability to get paperwork into Craig, have my hair done and run errands. Because I’m not technology-wise, I missed driving a couple columns into Craig.

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All of this may seem odd to people who go out each day, but because I live alone, I have to consider getting down the driveway, finding myself driving in a blizzard, and even getting my car out of the ice (which happened just yesterday). (Thank goodness for wonderful neighbors — another column to to come).

All of these hazy, cloudy days with little sunlight tend to make a person a little grumpy. I thought about the need for sunshine as I sat waiting for the stock tank to fill with water about two days ago. The sun was warm, and I hoped that I was getting a little Vitamin D at the same time.

I listened to the cows as they chewed on their hay. They are grumpy some winter mornings, sometimes not. I’ve written about my granddaughter Megan’s old cow Kitty, who has a habit of “talking.” She’s at her best this winter. I’m not sure what her low “moos” mean, but I can guess that it is weather-related.

The outside cats have been the most playful this winter that I can ever remember. They climb trees, sometimes as many as six at a time, run up and down the huge piles of plowed snow, and even play in the snow.

As I sat waiting for the stock tank to fill, I watched a cat as he played in the deep pasture snow. He rolled around on his back on top of the snow, trying to catch “globs” of snow that flew up into the air. I had never seen a cat play in the snow like that.

It’s been a winter to remember.