I'm horrified that it's been two weeks since I last posted. The silence is due to the fact that the blogger has been overwhelmed by the perpetual life crisis of too much to do. The other hindrance is that wherever I am, I start dozing off at about nine o'clock. I'm perplexed by this particularly because before we moved here I rarely turned the light out before 10:30 or 11pm.
It's snowing hard now, as it should be. I only hope it's snowing on the mountain where I was skiing earlier in a drizzle--spitting rain situation. The fog was so thick that on my last run the only terrain I could see was what was within five feet of me. Time to call it quits all right, though I was loathe to leave because it was also my best run of the day--every motion, every turn went beautifully.
The persistently warm winter weather has disappointed us deeply, and that includes Sophie. I came to the Adirondacks to get rid of this "Boston weather."
Sunday afternoon and evening an unpredicted five inches of heavy, wet snow fell, catching everyone by surprise. I was working and had the Toyota minivan with me. I called Ken who assured me the town had plowed our road, but I was nervous. The snow was falling so thickly and so fast that I feared a mere plow-through would not be enough to get me up our mountain road. Just as it was getting dark, I turned onto our road, and gave Hector (we name all our cars) the gas. I got up one steep rise, but the second stopped us. Nothing was going to get Hector up that road. So I decided I'd back my way down to a driveway, park it, and walk home. But it was dark and there are no streetlights. Add to that the insult of tinted glass obscuring visibility, and naturally I ended up with one wheel mired in a snowbank. I put on the flashers and hiked up, up, up, up, and even though Ken laughs when I say this, it was the longest climb of my life. The snow was swirling all around me--in my mouth, my eyes, my nose. I had no hiking boots, so my wornout L.L. Bean pull-ons did not provide traction. I arrived home in a snarling mood. All I could think of was how many conversations we'd had where I tried to convince Ken that the minivan would never deal with the snow and, in spring, the mud of our road.
For all concerned, I suppose it was fortunate that he was in a good mood and felt sorry for me, so my rage was soon doused to irritation and annoyance. I made him promise to drive me to work in the pickup the next day. With the help of Scott, the snowplow driver whom we met while he was trying to figure out how to get Hector out of the way, the saga comes to a close, but not before the excitement of having the minivan hauled out by a plow that makes Massachusetts snowplows look like Tonka toys.
I didn't mean to wax on so long about this little drama. After all, it was only five inches of snow (though it did come down in all of two hours). It seems that at this point we'll be sharing the Tundra pickup until the road freezes solid again, and during all inclement weather.
The wisest thing would be to trade the minivan in for another 4-wheel drive vehicle, but, our house in Canton hasn't sold yet, and a big purchase is just not in the cards.
It's snowing hard now, as it should be. I only hope it's snowing on the mountain where I was skiing earlier in a drizzle--spitting rain situation. The fog was so thick that on my last run the only terrain I could see was what was within five feet of me. Time to call it quits all right, though I was loathe to leave because it was also my best run of the day--every motion, every turn went beautifully.
The persistently warm winter weather has disappointed us deeply, and that includes Sophie. I came to the Adirondacks to get rid of this "Boston weather."
Sunday afternoon and evening an unpredicted five inches of heavy, wet snow fell, catching everyone by surprise. I was working and had the Toyota minivan with me. I called Ken who assured me the town had plowed our road, but I was nervous. The snow was falling so thickly and so fast that I feared a mere plow-through would not be enough to get me up our mountain road. Just as it was getting dark, I turned onto our road, and gave Hector (we name all our cars) the gas. I got up one steep rise, but the second stopped us. Nothing was going to get Hector up that road. So I decided I'd back my way down to a driveway, park it, and walk home. But it was dark and there are no streetlights. Add to that the insult of tinted glass obscuring visibility, and naturally I ended up with one wheel mired in a snowbank. I put on the flashers and hiked up, up, up, up, and even though Ken laughs when I say this, it was the longest climb of my life. The snow was swirling all around me--in my mouth, my eyes, my nose. I had no hiking boots, so my wornout L.L. Bean pull-ons did not provide traction. I arrived home in a snarling mood. All I could think of was how many conversations we'd had where I tried to convince Ken that the minivan would never deal with the snow and, in spring, the mud of our road.
For all concerned, I suppose it was fortunate that he was in a good mood and felt sorry for me, so my rage was soon doused to irritation and annoyance. I made him promise to drive me to work in the pickup the next day. With the help of Scott, the snowplow driver whom we met while he was trying to figure out how to get Hector out of the way, the saga comes to a close, but not before the excitement of having the minivan hauled out by a plow that makes Massachusetts snowplows look like Tonka toys.
I didn't mean to wax on so long about this little drama. After all, it was only five inches of snow (though it did come down in all of two hours). It seems that at this point we'll be sharing the Tundra pickup until the road freezes solid again, and during all inclement weather.
The wisest thing would be to trade the minivan in for another 4-wheel drive vehicle, but, our house in Canton hasn't sold yet, and a big purchase is just not in the cards.
posted by Judith at 4:50 PM
1 Comments:
Glad you are back and glad that everything is okay. I miss winter weather, too!
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