The Big One

It was all our fault, when I think about it, the neighbors and I standing around for the past few months talking about how little snow we had gotten all winter—2 or 3 inches at a time that quickly melted. We need a good snowstorm was our refrain. So nature finally obliged, generously dumping 4 feet of snow over two days. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much snow at the cabin. I don’t know how our neighbor, who plows the road, managed to pile the snow up 10 feet at the end of the driveway (below). I’m wondering if it will melt by June.

 

And the poor turkeys! As I was unloading the car, I heard a loud flapping of wings behind me and assumed it was a hawk. But when I turned around, it was a turkey flying out of the tree. I know they take shelter in trees at night, but this was late morning. And then it occurred to me that these birds might be too heavy to walk on this snow. And where would they find food? Could they peck their way through 4 feet of snow?

When I first arrived, I made my way to the cabin stumbling through snow that came up to my knees. I could hardly open the front door through the mass of snow. And there was no way I could shovel my way through the back porch (bottom), with snow that hit the bottom of the window and the top of the porch railing, to the well pump to get water to wash hands and dishes.

Even in my snowshoes, I sank a few feet down. When I went to deliver some food to my neighbor and get jugs of water from his buried car (right), I struggled to get to the back of his car, push snow off it with my ski pole, and then open the heavy back door. Because I couldn’t carry the jugs and use my poles to get back to the driveway, I threw one jug halfway down, which disappeared in the snow. Maybe by May, we’ll find it.

We have so few physical challenges in life, it’s almost a relief to be tossed one, to have life deliver some interruptions in our normal, schedule. When I couldn’t get water from the well pump, I boiled snow on the stove. When my back hurt too much to shovel a path, I tromped the snow down with my snowshoes.

There’s another interruption—a change in the landscape that’s welcoming. In the backyard, the picnic table and porch were hidden under the deep snow (left). On my walk around Meeker Park, huge piles of snow masked the landscape, burying familiar markers: cars and cabin roofs, Cabin Creek, the hillside of boulders, the field that last week was bare. I couldn’t even find the two Highland cattle.

It’s a different world, one that appears so rarely that it’s a treat, a break from the familiar. There’s a hush and momentary stop to all the rushing; not much is moving except the creek, muffled under the snow. Just for a day or two, the world feels softer, quieter and safer, as if the snow had paused the world, tamping down any aggressiveness. I breathe it all in.

Comments

[Julene Bair]

What an amazing amount of snow. Probably a relief in a way, too, given the lack of snow prior to this. I hope it fills some reservoirs and brings a profuse spring bloom a wildflowers.

[Susan R]

Wow. I haven't seen snow like that since I lived in upstate NY. I love waking up and "hearing" that it snowed the night before, ie, I hear nothing. Beautiful snow, covering all the noise and ugliness in the world.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Susan, it's true. One of the best things is the silence.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Julene, yes, I'm waiting for the wildflowers to spring up.