Saturday, December 12, 2009

Snow Day

Shirley, my neighbor down and across the street, was out shoveling her walks and ways this morning while I was out doing the same job at my house.

"Is it worth it?" she called to me.
"I don't know," I answered, "it's starting to snow."
"I know," she said.
"Well, I hope it's worth it."

We both kept on working until the jobs were done. I don't know what she thought, but I was hoping the few flakes falling then would be the extent of it. We don't often get snow after mid-morning. Or so I think. This is Boise, after all, not Rexburg, not Salt Lake.

I put my shovel in the garage, went inside, changed my clothes, brought my shoes down and set them in front of a chair. I would put them on later, after lunch, and then I would go out on a Christmas errand.

But I am no prognosticator of weather. I say it because my shoes are still in front of the chair, and it is still snowing--four+ hours later. What I shoveled this morning was nothing compared to what has now accumulated. Apparently we do get snow after mid-morning, and apparently we can get it the day long.

So I won't go out. I don't like to drive in this stuff. I cancelled last Monday's eye doctor appointment because we'd had a big snow, and the Ada County Highway District doesn't know my street exists. They never come around to clear it. Like a lot of streets around here. I suppose they were plenty busy last Monday and plenty busy today elsewhere

No I won't be going anywhere, unless I get up my ambition and go out for more shoveling. It's getting deep and will be a challenge for me to manage. Monday I actually called someone and asked for help--and got it. They made quick work of it. Wayne used to make quick work of it. I, on the other hand, am not so quick.

But today I think I must take care of the snow myself. I do not like to ask for help. People have their own lives.

A while ago there was a guy jogging down the middle of the street, his dog on a leash. I thought I'd actually like to do that. Dress for it, snow cap on, shoes that wouldn't slip. Maybe not.

Just now I hear a red-shafted flicker out there and wonder if he is confused by all this white, if the snow is hiding the places he likes to go poking for food.

We have no power over the weather. I have no power over the weather and no desire to defy it by venturing out in my car. So I am here in my house, keeping warm, mopping my kitchen floor, reading, trying not to eat (but, really, that is hard on a day like this), checking the TV for a football game I might be interested in, hoping my children and their children are safe and not on the roads today. Waiting to hear from Ann that Jeremy has come home from work safely.

This is not a complaint.

No comments: