This Here’s Fightin’ Snow February 25, 2010
Posted by indigobunting in Uncategorized.trackback
“Are you ready for the 1 to 17 inches we’ll be getting?” jokes the woman at the counter wrapping my catfish, because every minute it’s another story, anything could happen, and what does happen is big and wet and a lot, the kind of snow that’s great for snowballs and snowpeople and forts, fighting snow, the kind of snow that’s great for absolutely refusing to take a car out in this mess until your sister cuts her finger and needs an emergency trip to the doctor so what can you do and it’s not an impossible drive getting over there but has become nearly impossible coming back, and by then you’re so tired that you miscalculate and instead of dropping her off on the wrong side of the road and driving an extra (endless!) quarter mile to find a place dug out enough to turn around, you think you can make a U-turn, but it needs to be aborted and you foolishly get stuck halfway into her driveway, which is pretty near a blindish curve in the road, and you can’t move forward or back, and you curse and freak, but luckily someone is driving by who can and does pull you ass backward out of that mess, and you drive the extra quarter mile down the road to turn around where you should have in the first place, and at last you get home and collapse in a heap and eventually find the wherewithal to climb through the upstairs windows to the flat roofs and shovel shovel shovel the heavy stuff off the house, and the reports are calling for more wet-mess rainicesnowhighwinds, and you are on a deadline and need electricity and rather enjoy the luxuries of heat, water, and flushing, so it will be a couple more days of breath holding, and maybe you should simply embrace the fighting snow and build a snowcreature or let fly some snowballs on the unsuspecting, but the truth is you’re mourning the lack of sweet, perfect powdery stuff and just want to slap on some skis.
Route 153 
Most of my two years of Vermont snows were quite pleasant. I marveled at the speed and efficiency with which the plowers did their work, compared to the way DC was paralyzed with one-tenth the amount.
Except for one Thursday night at the Barn. A blizzard picked up, and I felt it wise to try to drive the half hour home before it got much worse. Too late. Ten minutes in and it was white out conditions, and I missed a turn, and I ended up near Danby, creeping along in a panic because I couldn’t see anything, and sure my battery would go dead and the defroster and wipers would die and they’d find our frozen bodies a few days hence. My dog, Tasha, was of tremendous comfort, stalwart soul that she was. Two hours later, I was home. I should have had a good stiff drink, but I think I just whimpered and crawled into bed.
Dear Indigo Bunting,
You can keep the snow to yourself. Please do not send any my way.
Sincerely,
Cedar Waxwing
First–Craig, you used to go to the BARN???? This is indeed hallowed ground. And Indigo, I’m sorry about the finger, sorry about the adventure, but it did make for a terrific post.
Yeah, I lived in Middletown Springs, and frequently met Indigo and her hubby and various McChesneys and terrific musicians and other August Personages for drinks and the occasional dinner.
Sigh. Snow. So exotic.
Hahahaha not laughing at you, laughing at memory involving 9 surprise inches here in St. Louis 11 years ago (that’s a LOT for St. Louis) and having my roommate get her car stuck in the middle of our street and by the time we got it out and I got inside and she admitted she had the last beer, I wanted to kill myself and her.
So, even though it doesn’t really matter, how many inches did you get? And wonderful post by the way. Please go out a build a snowcreature and post a photo.
B: I might have killed her.
H: We got about a foot, and then rain. It is raining now. And then last night we lost power for 10 hours. And now my oven doesn’t work and I get to “be available” from 8 am to 5 pm on Monday for Sears to stop by and fix it. So I’m begging off on snowcreature for now.