The winter of ’88 started late with an ice storm that took out tens of miles of power lines, snapping poles at the ground. Later, snow filled the windbreak between the corral, with its water lines, and the horses. My husband and sons dug a tunnel through the windbreak, but bits of drift persisted into spring. I was working the garden when my baby wandered off. I followed his cries and found him sitting in a puddle of snow melt. Normally, Ben didn’t like his bath, but that day he was really pleased to have a dunking in warm water.