Werewolves and Faery fields

The soybeans behind the house came down (farmerspeak for extremely large farm equipment processing the dried beans from field to storage) on Monday, and we had our first frost that night. My morning view was of the barren brown field, covered in white sparkles- a faery field. My first thought was "Oooh, pretty/looks different" closely followed by "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Not notnotnotnotnotnot NOT ready for the cold again. So much coping needs to happen in the cold. But there is no point in denying. And I haven't yet fixed the poultry yard gate, which works, but won't in the snow since the hogs bent the hinges. And I haven't replaced the sweeper cloths under the big barn doors to keep the snow out. And, I haven't found the right hardware (because I have to have it made by a blacksmith) to fix the sheep stall door that the ram destroyed- particularly annoying since the door probably had most of 200 years working just fine, then ram happened. I have to get out the pile of horse blankets and make sure I have ones that will fit Chaser (new horse), I am loathe to buy more. Time to resign the top of my head to the darkness, as it will hardly be hat-free between now and next June, get out the polartech collection, the long undies, the warm scarves and make sure I have enough gloves - they disappear worse than socks- and hand warmers. To the top of the pile go the winter breeches and the beautiful leather riding boots of summer give way to the serviceable insulated winter ones. The hat cover that has ear protectors, the Carhartts, the Muckboots, are the features of the near future. Time to clean the chimneys and move the wood holder to the porch, stack it with firewood and stop putting the sticks that fall off the trees into the burn pile and into the kindling pile instead. Mornings will start not only with the tea kettle, but with a "what will I make in the oven to warm up the kitchen" decision.  Time to get ready for my constant companion- the wind that will barely cease for the next seven months, surrounding the house with what used to be described as inhuman voices, but with the advent of the 70's can better be described as a muted version of the devil's fiddle solo in the Charlie Daniels Band song.
Now, there will be beautiful days still this fall. Yesterday was one- sunny and warmer and bursting with the colors of fall. Middlest and I had our jumping lesson, and Chaser began his career as a jumping horse, doing a bang up job of jumping, not only a few cross rails, but an entire course of them- under the arena lights. And I was over the moon! Good Boy!
But today is a werewolf- dark, and grey, and howling.