Blizzard

We are buried in snow after nature brought us a real, old-fashioned blizzard last night. The electricity was out for a short while, but came on after I went to bed, lighting lamps, making phones beep, and sending the furnace into noisy activity. When I got up this morning, the snow was piled so high against the house I wasn't able to open either door. I had to take out the window in the door, and shovel from inside (luckily I hadn't left the shovel outside as I often do). Once I could get outside, I put the dogs on their leashes and stumbled around the driveway between this house and the one next door. Not much snow accumulates there, even in a storm like this, because the wind blows up from the water and clears it out like a tunnel. While a drift four feet high covered the front door, grass was showing only a short distance away. The plow had pushed the snow into a bank almost as tall as I am all along the front of the house, so there was no way to get out for a walk.

For the sake of good spirits I ignored the sight of my car, almost buried and just behind the mound that lined the street. I did have to check on the chickens, though, and was horrified to see that their door had blown open. All I could see was snow in the doorway and no sound of chickens. There was no way to get the gate open to their yard, so I had to cut a hole the chicken wire. Fortunately, the area between the back of the house and the shed is also sheltered in a peculiar way, so once I was in the going was easy. All the chickens were none the worse for wear, keeping to the far side of the coop where it was bare and relatively warm. I fed and watered them, gathered eggs, kicked the snow out, and closed the door as best I could. It was time to go make my morning coffee and contemplate the situation. Everything was out of wack.......the newspaper didn't even come.

A few hours later I gathered my recources and faced the fact that I was going to have to shovel the car out. I dressed in layers of clothes, hat, boots, and mittens, and sallied forth. The wall of snow was daunting to say the least, but I put myself to the task with the determination of one who prides herself on self-sufficiency. Secretly, even to myself, I hoped some chivalrous person with a plow would see me and insist on helping me out. It didn't happen.

After two hours of constant shovelling I decided to give myself a rest. I had made considerable headway, but the job was far from finished. I imagined going back in a half hour or so, but once I had stopped, my arms and back felt useless. I made a pie and sat down to read while it was baking, gathering strength to tackle the chicken coop door. Ice around the doorway prevented the door from closing all the way and I spent considerable time chipping at it. Several times I had to trudge my way back to the house for hammers, screwdrivers, buckets of water, etc. I replaced the hook that the wind had yanked out of the wood, stuff towels into the crack where the door wouldn't close. Finally I was satisfied enough to call it a day.

I can't wait to have a piece of my pie.