Food, water, shelter.

"Every mile is two in winter."
                               George Herbert

Ol' George wasn't kidding. It is ironic that on bitter cold winter days, when you want to spend as little time as possible outside, everything takes longer to do. Now, in compensation for this,  I do only what HAS to get done. Life is distilled to it's essentials; food, water, shelter.
Just getting out the door takes a few minutes preparation. Insulated overalls, winter jacket, gaiter, hat, gloves, muck boots. If extensive work does have to happen, toe warmers stuck to socks before muck boots go on, and hand warmers, opened several minutes before departure to get them going. Then, trudge up to the barn, fighting the wind, our remarkable wind for which the optimistic note "perfect place for a windmill" and the pessimistic "HOLY ____ IT'S WINDY OUT HERE!" Yes, we've noticed.
The wind makes "snowfall" completely different from what I knew as a child in New England.  I have a picture of myself, 1982, sledding down our driveway. I've got rosy cheeks, ear muffs and a cocker spaniel on my lap-April was a champion sledder. Bounding around us in circles is our big black mutt, Blossom. She was not that helpful and would grab at your clothes in excitement. In the photo there is probably 6 inches of snow, so a modest amount. And, it is beautiful and heavy upon everything, the pasture fence is evenly coated, the ground is smooth and white. My father has no doubt gotten up before dawn to sit on the little garden tractor with a plow and spend hours plowing our long gravel drive. Once passable, he has gone off to work, and I am sledding in the cold sunshine. This is a typical New England snowfall, just like Currier and Ives, as the song says.

Snow at Cowfeathers:

Note the snow visibly flying up the ramp created by the water trough.

Which then, with the continued wind, becomes this:

Vast patches of nearly bare ground, and 4 foot drifts.
Currier and Ives did not live here. Your one horse open sleigh would be torture. Plus, you would have part of the road with no snow- very bad for sleighs, and then poof, drift as high as the sleigh.

Once you make it to the barn, sinking above your knees where it's snowy, and barely making footprints where it isn't, the other side of the barn door is like a sanctuary. It's still 2 degrees, but at least it's 2 degrees! Now, I must point out that I have made our barn chores vastly easier with the investment of running water and electricity.
Prior to that investment, all the water had to be carried up hill from the house to the barn. Prior to the electricity, all water buckets had to be broken with a hammer (horse trough= sledge hammer) several times a day. Then, the frozen buckets had to be transported back down the hill to get thawed in my kitchen. Now, we have electric buckets that plug in and stay thawed! And, the means to fill them. Great JOY!
So, check all water to make sure it is full, the outlet hasn't tripped and let it freeze, and clean.
Water- check
Food- Hay, hay, hay, for all, keeps everyone warm. Well, except for the poultry. They get extra corn- burns hot. Do you know many farmers here have a corn furnace?  They heat their houses with corn. Yep. But, the continuous flow of feed means many trips to the feed store, and then all that grain has to get to the barn. Thank you, Huz, for all the help this winter!
Shelter- this one takes the longest. For, although shelter is available, it must be cleaned. Frozen poop is exceptionally tough to remove. Then, all poopy, wet bedding from all gazillion critters has to get to the manure pile. This involves pushing a heavy wheelbarrow through the snow and drifts and wind to the pile, then, managing to get the latest offering to the top. This is referred to by  some of my friends, as my "Amish workout". Uses all body parts. Very effective.
Food, water, shelter. And, out. Cold. Leaving all the extra time for bon-bons and soap operas. (Do they still make those?)