The wind is like a knife. I got deep-down chilled this evening when I was out with the horses, and only now am warm enough to sit by the computer downstairs, having had a hot bath. It's 62F downstairs, which is as warm as I can make it, but not warm enough!
The ground in the barn pasture is frozen, and I walked over to see what the wind felt like in the lee of the barn and inside the shelter. It felt much better. So - as is my wont - I picked this evening, as night was falling, to decide to move the horses back over there.
They were all, like, "What! What's happening! Where are you taking me? Help! I'm being left behind!" Or, in Chloe's case: "I'm fine here out on the lawn, thanks. Please leave me alone."
However, I finally got everyone reunited inside their new accommodations. I put hay in the shelter and up against the barn. I said, "Come, horsies, see how cozy it is. You'll be all warm and snug here."
They said: "Pshaw. We're going out into the howling gale to see if there's anything tasty growing out there."
I lugged a couple of buckets of water in, but the little creek is running enough in places to be unfrozen. Rose ate her herbs. Bridget thought we maybe could play a little. But I said, "No! I am going inside and having a whisky. Goodnight."
As I sit, I can hear the wind howling on the other side of the wall. It's supposed to get down to 15F tonight (-10C), and what with the wind adding to the chill, I'm glad they have a shelter. Even if George stands in the entrance and won't let them in, at least they'll have the barn as a windbreak.
I am officially a wimp and am now going to bed with a hot water bottle.
p.s. Rose's leg's looking a lot better.