I no longer needed steps to access my porch; the snow had risen to the level of the veranda. I forked fodder for Patch and the mare and mucked out the place to the extent possible, given the freezing temperature outside. It was important that the animals had a clean and snug accommodation, such as I enjoyed.
After discovering the long burning potential of peat, I had rigged a rude stove that kept the inside of the commodious barn above the freezing point. Even so, every morning I broke a skim of ice on the animals’ water tubs. This morning, I threw a rope halter on Patch and climbed aboard his bare back to give him a little exercise. The pony seemed to enjoy fighting snowbanks to reach the crick. His breath was labored within the first hundred yards beyond the stream, so I turned back. The return was easier since the pony followed his own path through the snow.