Yesterday, for the first time since last Thursday, the temperature crawled out of the 30s into the 40s. In the morning, all the water troughs, buckets and puddles were still iced over.
I did my routine of breaking ice, carrying buckets of hot water and scooping frozen manure. The pond had a small hole in the ice where the water was circulating. I broke the ice around the perimeter and carried water back up to the barn in Jackson's blue bucket to wash out the rest of the buckets. I had the routine down.
In the afternoon when the sun had warmed the air to 50, Brett went down to the barn and turned the water valve on. Water rained down in the feed room through the ceiling, it came out of the wall by the wash rack spigot, and the main line was split. Ice and pipes don't mix. We tried to drain the pipes before we left for the show but I think we were too late. They were already frozen; packed with ice.
Brett turned the water valve back off and called our plumber. I was at work; I missed the excitement and, no doubt, the profanity. Brett has quite the colorful vocabulary when things like this happen.
The plumber comes tomorrow. Don't you just love unexpected and unplanned expenses for which you are not prepared? Me, too.
Today, the warming trend continued but there was a stiff wind. I was going to ride Winston but my throat is scratchy and I feel like I'm fighting off a cold or the flu or something along those lines. I stayed in the house all day, working and resting.