While We Wait

      Waiting for snow. Waiting for spring. It feels indulgent to know that we can have both. 

     The forecast promises an excellent snowstorm today with multiple inches, perhaps even a foot! It is expected to be so wonderful that Claire and her family have driven up from Raleigh to play in it. We are ready. We have one battered, metal snow shovel, painted blue, that we have carted with us from New York to Alabama to Virginia. Steve refuses to buy a plastic snow shovel and since none of the stores sell metal snow shovels, we make due with our old, dented model. 

     We are also well stocked in food. I baked bread...and cookies. Steve drove out yesterday on errands and filled the gas can in case we need to use the generator. I asked him to see if the store had fresh raspberries. He came home with a rack of baby back ribs and a tray of frozen stuffed scallops. No raspberries. I doubt these items were on anyone's list in Food Lion that morning but they caught Steve's eye. I guess both of our ideas were indulgent and only his came to fruition. We had scallops for lunch and ribs for dinner. 

     We are prepared for a blizzard of the century although chances are we will be able to drive out tomorrow afternoon. However, we both grew up in upstate New York and we were taught to be prepared for winter. Back then, we carried a blanket in the trunk of the car, flares, and ice scraper and brush and sometimes a shovel. Depending on road conditions and how your car handled on slippery roads, it was not out of the question to drive around with a bag of sand in your trunk. The bag of sand served both as ballast at the rear of the vehicle and it could be shoveled under the tires for traction if you got stuck.

     I recall one harrowing experience I had while driving home from work one afternoon during an April blizzard in 1982. Nothing in my trunk could have helped me that day. We lived in the city and there was a steep incline on the last block back to our apartment. If it was icy and you didn't gain enough speed at the bottom of the hill, you wouldn't make it to the crest. I wasn't able to gain enough traction that day and halfway up the hill, my wheels were spinning but the car was no longer moving forward. I experienced a split second of panic as I began sliding backwards and sideways down the hill, brakes and steering wheel useless. I was at the mercy of gravity, inertia, and ice. Parked cars lined the road and all I could do was grip the steering wheel with a false sense of control and pray that I wouldn't hit anything on the way down. The feeling of helplessness was nerve wracking and frightening. Thankfully I hit nothing as slid backwards, slowly coming to rest at the bottom of the hill. I have no recollection of what I did after that. I suppose I must have taken a detour home.

     As I sit here this morning, forty years later, I have no plans to venture out onto the roads while it snows or soon thereafter. I will enjoy the beauty of the snow. I hope to play outside in it a little bit and maybe even coast down the hill a time or two. And then I will wait for spring or the next snowstorm, whichever comes next.