It's been a snowier winter than usual; that is to say, it's been the kind of winter we used to have 40 years ago. There was snow on the ground for Thanksgiving, and a brief, bitter cold snap at that time. We had a 14" snowfall less than a week before Christmas. Alas, the white Christmas was mostly ruined by 4 days of rain and temperatures in the 50s, which turned the sparkly fluff into gray slush and the air to dank, gray fog. In the northern part of the state the temperature did not rise, but the rain fell anyway, coating the northern third of the state with ice that flattened trees and power lines, and left many without electricity for more than a week, as the first real arctic air of the season rolled in.
Dave, our plowman, never got around to helping put the tire chains and the snowblower on the tractor. This has been a major source of frustration for me. Dave plows the driveway, but he did anyway. The snowblower was for clearing the edges the plow doesn't reach, and for keeping a path open to the cottage and the composting area, but these are out of reach now.
It's been cold, too, as the ominous and hyped "polar vortex" has dropped down over the US a few times, bringing bitter, bitter cold for days at a whack. Not as consistent a chill as the winter of 2003, but bad enough.
Oh January 6, I had knee surgery, but the night of the 5th was filled with another storm of ice and slush, so Ber and I rented a room in Brattleboro that night, so we would not have to travel through the storm in the morning. Ugh, it was a gray, dark, raw and miserable day, and it took just forever to get home after my surgery.
I can't really do much in the way of thrashing around as I recover from having my knee cleaned out, so I have not been able to enjoy the snow that has fallen. My longest forays through the snow have been slow shuffles to the far side of the other garden on consecutive Saturdays, but my knee is unhappy with hills and slopes and uncertain surfaces underfoot, so hikes into the woods are out of the question, as are skiing and snowshoeing. The walks were pleasant, on sunny days in the 20s, blue sky and blue shadows, and millions of snowfleas pinging around on the snow. But... I will not be walking to the woods today - not with the new snow.
It began to snow early on Thursday morning - a little mist of fine crystals sifting down just after sunrise. The sky was that even, flat gray that it gets when a storm means business, and by 9am the snow was falling fast.
Linda stopped in for breakfast on her way to work, and said that the blower on her Durango had stopped working, and her windshield was frozen over, and could she take the Outback? Of course, yes, and I would take her truck to the garage at the corner have it looked at. She anticipated closing the store at 1 or 2pm; almost all of our company's stores in the south and east were closed, as the storm was blasting the entire eastern quarter of the country, and so I knew I would not be going to work that day, so did not mind so much being left with the Durango.
After breakfast I nursed the Durango down to the garage, and sat in their waiting room, sketching the water cooler (a sketch which came out pretty well, considering the conditions). Then one of the mechanics said that the blower motor was shot, and a new one, and sundry other related parts, had to be brought up from Bellows Falls, and it would be late afternoon before the truck was ready. Not wanting to sit around a smelly garage for the entire day, I set out on foot for home, 1/4 mile away, not looking forward to the walk in the wind and snow, but willing to do it. Luckily, one of the mechanics was taking a car for a road test and gave me a lift.
I called Linda with the bad news of the $400+ repair needed. She was unhappy, but resigned. She said she was going to close at 1pm, and as Dad needed a refill of some medicine, I asked her to swing through Londonderry on the way home - 7 miles out of the way, but probably a better road than Rt. 30, which is broken and pitted with frost heaves and potholes for miles. I settled in to watch the snow, and feed the birds, and turned on the Winter Olympics for Dad. Warm sunshine and balmy breezes in Russia, 20 and snowing to beat the band here. Hmm.
Linda finally made it here at quarter to three. It seems that the wiper blades on the Outback kept icing up, and she had to stop a half-dozen times so clean them off. She said the road wasn't so bad, not for an experienced driver with a good car and good tires, but all the same she was glad to be here.
Her car was fixed, and the mechanics delivered it late in the afternoon, which saved us a trip out in the snow, but at dusk, Dave drove in, and our cars were blocking the driveway, so we had to fling on out coats and boots and hurry to move the cars so Dave could plow. Linda drove her truck as far up the hill as she could, and I managed to get the Outback into the garage without too much trouble.
After supper that night, Linda went out to head for her apartment up the road, and her car refused to start. The battery has been fading, and has needed three or four jumps this winter already, and now it needed another one. Linda slogged back to the house and got the keys for my car, and drove up to her house, only to find that she had left her house key here, and had to come back for it.
Yesterday morning we woke to more than 20" of fresh snow. Dave made another pass through the driveway early in the morning, but with Linda's truck still here, he could not plow up in front of the garage, and left a berm of firm snow across that part of the driveway. Linda called; she had not even been plowed out yet, and knew that she could not get over the big berm of snow that the road plows had heaped up at the end of her driveway. She said she would call for a jump start as soon as I could get the Durango shoveled out.
So after breakfast (cornbread and tea) I pulled on boots and gaiters and all my other winter gear, and Dad waxed the good snow shovel, and I went out. The wind was rising by now, and before I set to work, I took a few photos of the conditions.
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| Looking down the Driveway, 10am on Valentine's Day |
I shoveled out the area the plow did not reach near the front steps, and the short path to the oil filler pipe, and then set out across the driveway.
I first had to remove the berm that lay like a beam behind the Durango. It was about 12 feet long, 4 wide at the base and 24" deep. The snow was firm and heavy, but not hard-packed, and it took me about 20 minutes to shovel it away. This was complicated by the slope, because often I'd toss a chunk of the snow up onto the slope at the corner, only to have it tumble back down to my feet. AARRRggghgh....
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| Linda's truck, and my cottage |
I got the berm removed, and then went in for a drink of water, and to leave my glasses, which kept fogging over. I considered leaving my hat in the house, too, as it kept falling over my eyes, but the wind was sharp, and I didn't quite dare go hatless.
Then I set to freeing the truck from the snow that had drifted deep along the driver's side. I shoveled away the snow behind the truck, then cleared the back window and shoveled that away. Then, along the side...shoveling that seemed more like tunneling.
While I was out shoveling, Linda had called to say that she'd been plowed out, and plowed in at the same time. Her plowman had cleared the driveway but had pushed up a 4' deep heap behind her (my) car, and she had to go shovel out. Then she had a call from our manager, telling her to not even try to get to the store. Most of the East was shut down anyway, and if she could get there and open, who the heck would be there to buy anything? So at least that worry was taken off the table.
I slogged back across the driveway, and then I fell for the second time, this time flat on my face. I felt my feet go, and just let myself fall, not wanting to land on my knee, now 6 weeks removed from surgery. Flump, face down, a soft impact in the snow. Snow in my gloves, in my face, in my collar, in my coat pockets. I got to my feet, and trudged to the house, and asked Dad for the whisk broom. I took off my coat and stood in the wind on the front step, sweeping as much snow as I could from my coat before going in.
I made a cup of tea and dropped into a chair with my feet, still in boots, stuck out in front of me, snow melting and dripping off in puddles. I was drenched from the outside with wind-driven snow, from the inside with sweat. My hair was well on its way to becoming one giant dreadlock. The heat of exertion drained away and I began to get chilled and shivery, and felt sticky and gross from being sweaty and damp. So I took a hot shower, and put on warm fuzzies, and began to feel more human. Dad was making a stew, so I pitched in, and cut up the meat and browned it.
Linda arrived shortly before the guy came to jump-start her truck, and once she was sure it was going to run, she started out for the garage to get the new battery she had ordered. But her truck isn't great in snow, even in 4WD, and it slipped sideways, and got well and truly stuck. So in she came and called for a tow, and sat to wait.
The tow truck finally arrived about two hours later (it must have been a busy day for them) and tugged the Durango out of the snowbank, and Linda went down to get her new battery - only to find that the garage had already closed for the day on account of the lousy weather.
She came in and threw her purse and keys and hat in a heap on the floor, and sat down in tears. Then she went up to her apartment and had a good cry, and hot tea and a comforting fluffy book, and felt better.
After she had left, I decided to put the Outback in the garage so Dave could come give us a proper plowing-out, and I thought I'd be out for maybe 5 minutes. But no...
I backed down the driveway and started up the hill to the garage, and got only part-way there. Back down, try again.... and again.... and agan... Try a different angle, but now, now the car wanted to go sideways.
I almost got it in, the nose of the car only a couple of feet from the door, but could go no farther. I fetched a shovel, and sand, and shoveled and shoveled, and hid in the garage when a particularly strong blast of wind came through. Then I thought I would just straighten the angle out, put down some sand and then roll right in. But no...
I backed off, and could not get back to where I had been. The snow underfoot - under-tires - was chopped and mushed to the consistency of shaved ice, laid thick over the packed and frozen driveway. There was no traction to be had.
I backed down - almost got hung up crossways in the driveway - pushed through and got out into the road. I turned around at the ski shop and headed back for home, thinking "I'll get the car into the garage if it's the last thing I do!" I intended to zoom in and let momentum carry the car up the hill...but as I reached the driveway, a string of about 15 cars came creeping ever so slowly down the road, and I had to wait, steaming, for them to pass. Then I gunned it, and started around the corner... I mean, I tried to go around the corner. I steered - turned the wheel - but the car kept going straight, and I went WHUMP! into the snowbank at the corner.
I decided that despite my assertion, I was not going to get the car under cover. If I can't even steer - if the Outback shod with knobby snow tires can't get the least purchase on the ground - then there is no point in trying. So I backed down, then bulled through the snow to the front door and parked. I put away the sand and the shovel, scraped away the snow that had packed into the grille and fog lights, and went inside, defeated by the winter. I threw my keys and wet coat and hat and mittens on the floor and wiped the fog from my glasses and came very close to crying from sheer frustration.
I watched TV - Dad and I made biscuits - the stew was VERY good. This morning it is snowing again - another coastal storm bound to drop another 4-6" here, with a blizzard down on the Massachusetts coast. Not a good day to be out on the Cape.
I've had enough of it. I can't get out and enjoy it, can't get out into the woods. I want spring, and birds, and flowers, and to go out without boots and coat, and smell the warm earth. Enough winter already.
