Hog Killing Weather

Disclaimer: This post may be distasteful to some but is told from my memory of long ago.

It's bitterly cold here in central-ish Texas.....around 27 degrees with a wind chill factor of 10 to 15 so that brings things down to 17-ish degrees........what we Texans call "hog killing" weather.
I remember those cold, blue northers sweeping in, blotting out the sun, chilling us to the bone.  On one of those times all the brothers and brothers-in-law, old and wise in their years gathered in our back yard in their long-john covered overalls, wool caps, coats of varied lengths, thick socks.......all in old mud cracked and caked boots. 
Granddad would load his double barrel shotgun in preparation for the "event."  My brother and I dawned our overcoats as grandma cautioned us to stay back and out of the way. Our eyes clear and shining, so excited to get to see this now forgotten experience.
Uncle Kenchion sharpened his ax as a large hog was moved from one pen to the next.  This prize hog would have been fed corn and other grains for a couple of months.  A large tree where a series of ropes hung behind the pen in readiness.
A shot rang out, the hog is dispatched instantly. Uncle K moves in to rope the hind legs of the hog and the other men hoist the 200 pound hog off the ground. A vein is opened with a sharp knife, draining the blood.  My brother and I move closer to see all the action. Gory but back then, a way of life.
Granddad places a large trough under the hog as Uncle K. uses is ax to open the underside of the hog.  The men move in and start to cut away the precious portions of the hog to be shared by many families.
Grandma helps to salt down the pork and rinses the intestines many times to clean them for use later.  Very little is wasted as the men work.
My brother and I are freezing but don't want to go inside and miss anything.  The men carry our portion of pork to the meat-house or smoke-house to be stored.  Salted meats could last quite a while during winter months. The other men wrapped they portions in bits of cloth to take home to their wives and families. This pork would feed several families for weeks to come.
The day is nearly over.  Grandma soaks the intestines in salty water to leave over night.  It's almost time for dinner.  My brother and I warm by the heater as Grandma begins to prepare the evening meal, Granddad gets cleaned up and Mom is home from school.
Those are the memories I had when it's so cold like it is now.