During our decades in scorching Las Vegas, where we were just new Wannabe Homesteaders, I learned a lot. How to nurture my first garden. How to keep layer hens. How to create compost. I’d shake my fist at the thermometer, add more ice to the chickens’ water, and wistfully imagine how much easier homesteading would be when we could finally take the leap and move to Southwest Colorado.
And I wasn’t wrong. The soil here is amazing. The community is bursting with gardens and orchards and vast herds of cattle. We first arrived here in June, when the sun shone gently and the bees buzzed softly. I look forward to many years of abundance here at the Big Table Homestead, where the spring and summertime tasks are (more often than not) highly enjoyable.
But winter.
Y’all, these lessons I’m getting about homesteading in a cold climate are a kick in the pants! Here’s a collection of things I’ve learned since our first snowfall in November. May it serve as a helpful guide to those of you who would also consider yourselves “frost tender flowers.”
Seven Things I’ve Learned About Homesteading in Winter
Sloggers are a must
Basically tough rubber boots that you’re not afraid to get dirty, Sloggers go by many names: Muck Boots, galoshes, wellies, billy boots. My feet are now more or less permanently shod in Sloggers, which I purchased on clearance back when the ground was dry and the weather was way too hot to consider wearing them. My purchase was heavily influenced by the fact that my beautiful sloggers have brightly colored chickens on them. They slip on quickly and protect both the feet and delicate sensibilities from all manner of snow, ice, mud, and manure.
There are different types of snow
Our first snow was very exciting. Not much more than a dusting on the ground, the first few flakes of winter had us throwing on a ragtag ensemble of laughably inadequate clothes to run outside and revel in the wonder of Semi-Solid Precipitation. It melted by noon. This type of snow is called, rather unimaginatively, Dry Snow. By December, we’d thrown our fair share of snowballs (formed with Wet Snow), slipped and fallen in puddles of Slush, huddled in the barn to avoid being pelted with Hail, and discovered one of my new favorite words: Graupel. Graupel is not sleet, and not hail, but something in between. It bounces delightfully off a tin roof, and the word rolls even more delightfully off the tongue (go ahead, say it out loud, but do take a moment to share the disappointment with me that the spelling is not “gropple.”).
To watch the weather app like a hawk
There are few things more devastating to a gardener than discovering an entire crop is lost to frost, just because the weather was deceptively warm at bedtime. Knowing when there is a wind warning for the next day can give you time to batten down the hatches of the chicken coop and check the stakes of your row covers. I know folks used to have ways of predicting things without modern technology, but I sure am grateful that I can just ask my phone for a ten-day forecast and be prepared.
Snow fleas are a thing
So, they’re not actually fleas, or even proper insects. These tiny, black little jumpers are more closely related to crustaceans, and they make their own sort of antifreeze. They don’t bite, and they serve an important function in a biodiverse garden: they’re mini composters. So if you encounter a teeming, jumping mass of these little critters, say a little hello and thank them for their good work.
To keep a handful of emotional support seed packets nearby
When the longing for spring becomes overwhelming, and we’ve grown as pale as ghosts for lack of sunshine, it’s good to have a little fireside activity to help pass the cold evenings. I personally love spreading out my seed packets and making plans for what I’ll grow just as soon as the ground can be worked. The satisfying sound a crisp seed packet makes when you shake it is such a balm to the winter-weary soul. Seed sorting is something I tend to do when I’m in between good gardening books.
Not to position extension cords where ice can form
Electricity can be a literal life-saver to a small homestead. As our climate is actually rather mild, I have given thanks more than a few times for the chickens’ automatic water heater, fed by an extension cord from the house. Powering tools far from an outlet, running my laptop in the tiny “barn office” where I write, and lighting treacherous pathways are other modern conveniences I have wholeheartedly embraced. But channeling all that energy from the house had created a seriously dangerous hazard. I didn’t give it a thought until my dad pointed it out. An extension cord which becomes frozen in ice, then stepped on repeatedly until it begins to break down is an electrical disaster waiting to happen. I immediately applied de-icer to the areas that were a problem, and I now check all the cords daily to ensure they’re free of ice and off the beaten path as much as possible.
Snow chains are funny to the locals
After a few harrowing experiences while driving to work in his small car, my husband came home one evening with some tire chains. We’d already spent a pretty penny on snow tires for the family van, so he was looking for a solution that wouldn’t cost much. Armed with a flashlight, I joined him in thickly falling snow to help get the chains on. After numerous tool changes, watching a few unhelpful videos, and an undisclosed number of profane words, we concluded that not only were the chains not going on properly, but they also weren’t coming off.
My husband took the van to work the next morning, and I called the local tire shop where we had purchased the snow tires for the van. One of the perks of living in a tiny town is the extremely accommodating business owners. A smiling man came to the house and silently observed the situation in the bright morning light. It looked even worse than it had in the dark. Mangled chains had become frozen to the driveway, crippling the car. “Ma’am, what’s your goal here?” He finally asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Well, do you think we can get these on properly?”
He hesitated. “Welp…ma’am…”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “You can laugh at me. We just moved here from Las Vegas, and we clearly have no idea what we’re doing.”
He burst out laughing and patted my shoulder. “Ma’am, nobody uses chains around here except big trucks. These chains aren’t even the right size for these tires. You just need to get a set of snow tires and learn to drive carefully.”
This we did.
I’m sure the winters to come will teach us lots more lessons, but I’ll be honest: I enjoy the warm-weather lessons better. For now, I’m off to pour some hot tea and spend some time with my seed box. Do you have any more tips for thriving on a homestead during the winter? Let me know in the comments!
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