Start the Tractor for Me, Please! Country Life in Winter

“Would you start the tractor for me, please? I’ll make you some breakfast and a hot cocoa.”

“Oh sure, honey—let me just grab my industrial-strength flamethrower and a prayer.”

That poor tractor looks like it’s been cryogenically frozen for a hundred years. You’d need a jackhammer to find the ignition and a team of sled dogs to pull it out of the snowbank. I’m pretty sure the steering wheel snapped off in protest sometime around the second blizzard. The seat? Probably frozen solid to the consistency of granite. Even the gearshift looks like it’s surrendered to the elements.

But hey, for hot chocolate and breakfast? I might be persuaded. Just don’t be surprised if I come back in looking like a snow yeti, muttering about betrayal and frostbite. I’ll need that cocoa extra thick—and most people would want a little something in it for “medicinal purposes.”

This, my friends, is winter in the North Country. You don’t need a weather report—you just open the door, take one look at your machinery, and realize you’re not going anywhere until June. Around here, we measure snowfall by whether we can still see the mailbox, and “warming up the tractor” means lighting three candles and praying for divine intervention.

Of course, the tractor didn’t look this bad yesterday. That’s the cruel trick of winter storms—they sneak up overnight and leave you wondering if you’ve woken up on the wrong planet. One minute you’re admiring the peaceful snowfall; the next, your equipment looks like a prop from Frozen: Farm Edition.

Still, there’s a strange kind of beauty in it. The soft white blanket muffles all sound, the air is still, and even the most stubborn machinery looks poetic—like it’s taking a long winter’s nap.

Now, if only it would wake up before spring.

--Linda Chappell photo

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©2010 Sandy Davis | American Way Farm