>Clear drops clung to the branches outside the living room window. As the wind shook the shrub and the sparkling crystals did not fall, I knew these were ice not rain. The weather reports had all warned that the temperature would plunge, but seeing the ice I believed them. Sunday morning brought winter.

We all remember how warm and bright Friday was. Though the sun was low in the sky, it's light seemed to have some heat in it. Coats were carried, and left in the vehicle. Taken where we were going and forgotten. The next morning was cooler, requiring warmer clothes to go outside, but it still felt like early fall not winter.

I have tried not to be deceived by warm fall weather. A few years ago, large heavy flakes filled the air on Hallowe'en. It did not stick, and I ignored it. Until Sunday morning when I got up to find a foot of heavy wet snow in the lane. I had not payed attention to the hints the sky gave, and the snow blower was still in the field. The tractor was far from any place where its block heater could get plugged in.

Since then I pay more attention in November. I read the forecast often. And with winter predicted, I spent Saturday morning getting ready for the white stuff. Stakes were pounded in along the lane so that when the squalls lay a smooth blanket from field to pond to swamp, I can see where to drive the tractor and snow blower. Windows in the barn were closed up. Heat was set up to keep the water bowls from freezing. The sheep got looked after.

And during the night I looked out to make sure that we had not had more than the couple centimeters that fell during the evening. A big dump, and I'd be up extra early to clear the lane before work. To my relief, what there was in the lane I could easily drive through.

But as I headed out the door Sunday morning, I realized I had not dug out my winter boots or hat or mits. Too late to go searching, I made do with the warmest fall clothes. I joked that as usual the farm got cared for ahead of the people. I tried not to slip on the layer of icy snow on the back step.

I also I had not given myself extra time to clear off the truck windshield. Somehow, this necessary task escapes my planning on too many mornings. The mix of rain and snow with falling temperatures meant the inch thick layer was stone hard. And even once it was clear, the inside of the window fogged up and outside, as the wipers moved back and forth, they spread a thin layer of moisture that froze with each swipe.

Slowing myself down, clearing side windows and front, I made sure I could see as I drove down the icy lane onto the snow-covered road. The road was solid white. A push of a button turned on the four wheel drive, and stern words in my head ensured a light pressure on the accelerator. No point hurrying on this slippery surface. Visibility was good though.

All the way to Rockford, the road was solidly covered. It was bare and wet passed Springmount, and then mostly bare with patches of snow and ice. Not a bad drive from there on.

Facebook reminded me that two years ago on the twentieth of November there was enough snow in the farm lane to ski. This year, it had just covered the road and put a light layer on the fields and trees and wires. The benefits of winter will have to wait.

Except, I know we need the moisture. Our pond is low, so every bit of rain and snow we get is seeping deep into the ground, restoring what a summer's drought took. And watching the wind scour snow from wires and branches, sending it tumbling onto the road, the yard, gives a sense of energy in an otherwise tired and dreary season.

And I'll remember those sparkling drops of ice clinging to the branches and shining with light.

Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister, and writer living near Walters Falls.