Calm After the Storm

Once the storms cleared out on Friday and the rain was over, we went outside to do the remaining farm chores.  We'd already shut down the high tunnels in case the ominous clouds packed any poofs that would send our hoop buildings into the next county if they were left open.  Tools and any items that were a risk to taking flight in nasty weather were also already put away or under shelter.

But, we still needed to put the chickens to bed.  So, we stepped outside as the sun was setting in the newly clearing skies to the west.  

Then I stepped back inside to grab the camera.

I looked for ways to show the contrast of the sunset colors with the impending darkness.  I took experimental photos from different angles and from different locations too.  Some of them actually turned out pretty well. 

I was able to catch some Mammatus clouds that appeared over the Poultry Pavilion once we walked to the north side of the farm.  Their presence at the back edge of the storm, not far from the cloud edges that were collecting the last of the day's sun, was not a surprise to us.  But, they do add some interesting texture and drama to the sky.

As we approached Crazy Maurice, our Weeping Willow friend who is hosting the laying hens in their Summer Cottage, we were treated to some other dramatic scenes.

There was still a heavy rain cell to our northwest and they obscured the last as the sun as it dipped below the horizon.  They also provided interesting contrast and depth.  A few scud (or Fractus) clouds were still evident as they tried to decide if they wanted to keep up with the weakening rain cell or just float away.

The truly good news about the show in the sky was that it gave us both something to look at as we waited for the chickens to decide it really WAS time to go to bed.  This putting the laying hens to bed thing is going to be just that... a thing... for a while now.  

The Summer Cottage has a board that serves as a ramp to give the hens better access to their shelter.  So, unlike the Poultry Pavilion, where they had been housed before, there really is no good way for us to herd the birds into the room.  There's not much for it except to wait - patiently or not - until they all make the slow decision to climb the ramp and seek out a perch.

Not every night is going to have a storm and a sunset show to provide interest to the evening's tasks that we do on the farm.  But that's ok.  If it happened every night, it would cease to be special.  But even if it did happen every night, I'd like to think that I would still appreciate seeing it and that I would find myself being much more patient as I look at the sky...

and wait for our poultry decide their day was done.