February 19, 2025
Over the last several days, we have received over
eighteen inches of snow. In our lower back yard, which is enclosed for the dogs,
we have a drift that is more than two feet in height.
David and I were trying to remember the last time we
had this much snow at one time. He’s 72 and I’m 70, and our memories aren’t as
reliant as once they were. So we asked our daughter who’s only 46—and she can’t
remember, either.
But we all know that it was more than a few years ago.
Hell, the last two years didn’t even feel like real winters to us at all.
That being said, we believe in contingency plans. We have
a logistical operational imperative here, with relation to possible accumulated
snowfall. It takes some explanation, so here goes.
Our street isn’t all that wide. Cars can pass each
other going in opposite directions, in the summer, with about a couple of
inches to spare. As long as no one is parked at the curb on either side of the
street.
Now, some time ago, the town changed our street from
parking on each side alternatively, changing on the first day and the sixteenth
day of the month, to parking only on one side the entire time. Luckily, that
side is the same side of the street as our house.
Additionally, ours is a corner property, on the northwest
corner of an intersection. And the cross street includes a steep hill on the
west side. That means that cross street, with that hill, is one of the first
areas in our town to be plowed and salted after a snowfall. And our imperative
is that as soon as that cross street has been plowed, we clean off our cars and
move them there. Then, we await the plowing of our own street, and only after
that is done, do we move our vehicles back to our street and in front of our
house.
This has worked very well for us for the last several
years.
Snow fell Saturday and Sunday, and it was a miracle
that we were able to get one grandson and one great-granddaughter here on
Monday to help with the digging out of the cars. It took a while but finally
they were moved to the cross street.
Yesterday afternoon, finally, our street was
sufficiently plowed, and we were able to move our cars back.
The “we” in that last sentence is what is sometimes
referred to, in our family as “the royal we”. The history of this is that when
my mother would tell me that “today, we’re going to____ (fill in the blank)”,
what she really meant was that I was going to do whatever work was required
while she looked on.
Yes, it was our
daughter who moved the vehicles, because while the street has been
plowed—somewhat—the walkway and the steps that lead up from the walkway to the
porch, not to mention the curb itself are all buried under an incredible
combination of snow and ice.
And we need the steps and walkway cleared, as swell as
a sport on the curb shoveled out, if we are to leave our house and get into our
car.
My daughter has informed us that my husband and I can
consider ourselves housebound for a few more days yet.
We happen to agree with that opinion. We need to get
our grandson over to clean off the walkway and the steps, get rid of snow and
ice there. Then he has to shovel out not just the curb but the road itself a
bit more as the plow didn’t do that good of a job and there is too much of the
white stuff to drive into and away from the curb comfortably.
But first we have to wait until after tomorrow,
because the forecast calls for more snow on Thursday, and who knows how much more
white stuff that will really be?
Because I like to end on a positive note, there’s
this: in days past, it used to be me who had to figure out all the logistics
and put plans into motion. This usually included some shovel wielding by myself
and my husband, too.
I am pleased to report that is no longer the case. I
no longer have to shoulder the planning and the worry. I can just sit back and
wait for things to be done.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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