To my friends in the south—you’ve been hammered. Dumped on. Kicked. Slapped silly by Mother Nature. I know you’re not used to three feet of snow. The demands it suddenly creates in your life seem insurmountable. I’ve been reading the blog posts from Lauren Sprieser, Sara Lieser and Jennie Brannigan and truly, they have my sympathy. These ladies are working overtime to meet the basic needs of their equine charges.

Hang in there! When you do make it out for gas, grain, bread and milk, be sure to also stock up on chocolate and red wine. These are most definitely essentials for winter horsekeeping. How do I know this? Friends, you’re getting hit hard, but it will pass. Here in Vermont, I am still staring at another two-and-a-half months of winter. This, after having made it through three-and-a-half months already.

What happens to you when you hit the midway point? It’s not pretty, but in an effort to help my fellow horsemen and women, I’m peeling back the flannel and exposing the ugly underbelly of what can happen to you when winter just won’t go away.

Small inconveniences bring you to tears.

Examples: Frost heaves in the road make driving a bouncy experience—parts of my body that I don’t even admit exist are bouncing, and it hurts. The shavings in the shavings bin are frozen. You raise the shovel over your head and send it into the heap, hoping to pry a few handfuls loose. The shovel bounces off the frozen pack, and the handle smacks you in the face. You unhook the hose to put it away in the heated feed room, it drips on your gloves, and they freeze in five minutes. And then there’s the already reported, but always extra special, fall on the ice while bringing in horses.

Each of these small indignities individually are not so bad. But the cumulative effect is devastating. One more—maybe it’s having to put another layer of blankets on 20 horses or running a wheelbarrow full of poop up to the dumpster and sliding all the way back down the ramp, flipping the wheelbarrow over in the process—and that’s it, it’s too much. It’s too hard. It’s too unfair. Why do I live here? Boo-hoo, boo-hoo, wah, wah, wah. Next thing you know you’re sitting in the hayloft crying. Winter, it’s great!

You feel slightly insane.

Examples: Upon seeing photos of last summer’s horse shows—green grass, short sleeve shirts, horses sans blankets—you doubt these things ever happened. Green grass? What is grass? You hear of people and barns in other states planning “spring” horse shows for March and April. You hate these people without even knowing who they are.

You make large purchases that make no sense in the heat of the summer when you are still paying for them.

Examples: Large clothing orders from L.L. Bean. Generators. Plows. Trucks. Any mittens or gloves you see anywhere. Tickets to Ocala. When you’re staring down the tunnel of winter with no hope of escape, you start spending a lot of time online checking out airline tickets. You spend money you don’t have, making up excuses why this really makes sense (well, the girl did get straight As this quarter). You agree to bring the boy with you. Like I said, insanity.

Survival strategies are key to making it through winter. Chocolate, red wine, plane tickets—whatever it takes to get you through. How are you coping? What’s working for you? Please share, this bottle of red wine is almost empty.

Elizabeth Howell grew up riding on the hunter/jumper circuit in Massachusetts. Now she is a horse show mom. She holds a day job at The Emily Post Institute and slings horse manure on the weekends.  Her web site is www.sheridesIpay.com.