ON THE FARM WITH KATE MACLEAN

No sooner had autumn arrived than it seemed to leave us again.

Although the colors changed quickly, the season was mild and temperate for us. This autumn was so mild that we almost became complacent. I postponed shearing the sheep, planting garlic, and preparing the garden beds for next spring. It was a dull, warm, never-ending autumn. An autumn that tricked us into thinking winter would never arrive. Such was all of October.

Then—as if unusually attuned to the date—it ended its autumnal dance with a windy, stormy, rainy finale on Halloween night. That night was so mild that despite the rain, we were comfortably warm and in good spirits as we accompanied the 6-year-old farm resident on his trick-or-treating rounds. We arrived home in the dark, and shortly after, the wind picked up, and the rain intensified.

Throughout the night, the farm trembled, and the wind howled. As a farmer, sleep is out of the question in such conditions. I mentally counted all our animals, over and over again, to determine who had shelter and who needed it. Had the rain not pelted so heavily against our windows, I would have gone out in my pajamas to count them all myself. When I can’t sleep, I often walk among the animals of the midnight farm. In summer, with the help of a full moon. In winter, with the light of the snow-covered landscape. But that last October night was too unpleasant even for a sleepless farmer like me. So, I paced back and forth, wrung my hands, and comforted myself with the knowledge that they all had shelter.

In the morning, November had arrived, and we had lost many trees. Some of the shelters I had placed so much trust in the night before were upside down that morning. Fortunately, there were no losses on the farm. The birds looked a bit wind-battered, their feathers pointing in different directions. The pigs were grumpy and looking for breakfast. The cows—if they had even noticed the storm—showed no signs of it. The farmers clearly had the biggest shock. Forecasts, woolly hats, and insulated boots were brought out. Eyes narrowed. Beards grew ominously. October's playground was closed. We had 1, maybe 2 weeks, before winter arrived. This wake-up call was all we needed. We got into gear.

Here we are, 11 days later. I can hear the hum of the tractor as I write this. Nick and Jake are busy bolting down the last huts for winter. The last animals have moved into the big barn. There's still some snow on the ground from last week. Hardly a few inches. I was so sure it would melt as soon as it fell. But the thermometer had other plans, covering us with new nightly lows. 20 centimeters are expected tonight. Single-digit lows will follow during the week. It has arrived. We have arrived. The winter farm, its animals, and their caretakers are ready.