It was just after the sun rose on New Year’s Adam (Adam came before Eve), that my sister and I struck out for Hosely’s Meats in the small town of New Glarus, Wisconsin, about 20 miles from the farm.
We were rug-ed up pretty good, both wearing long down coats, neck scarves, hats, and gloves. My sister probably had on long underwear pants, but I can’t get my jeans on over mine, so I roughed it without the Cudl Duds. (TMI, probably.) The actual temperature was negative 3, but it dropped to negative 5 on the trip. The “feels-like” temp was reported at negative 23. Just sayin’.
We, or actually she, drove over the snow covered country roads, past picturesque family farms with red barns, multiple outbuildings, and the sun glared at us across the snow covered fields. Pretty dramatic, I know, but I had the drive to compose parts of this entry in my head, and well, I sort of liked some of the turns of phrases.
We were picking up a half beef that had been processed for the family. Do you remember that rogue steer that jumped the fence? The one I wrote about in the last post? It was his brother. I sang “Hunka, Hunk ‘a Burning Love,” also in my head, to keep warm. Never underestimate private silent thought processes.
Anyway, Hoesly’s is an amazing full service business, and I imagine there are ones like it all over the country, even in the south, but I’ve had no previous personal experience. The place consisted of many very large buildings, and we went into the store part, where I chatted it up with a guy I presumed was Mr. Hoesly, but who knows? Payment made, car loaded, we made a reverse trip, where we safely arrived home to unpack four cardboard boxes of hamburger, roasts, and steaks into the freezers.
Then we had a yummy breakfast of homemade hot vegetable beef (yep) soup. Ooo. I should have splashed some red wine into it.
There are many ways to fight the cold.