Posted tagged ‘visions of shovels and plows’

“Winter changes into stone the water of heaven and the heart of man.”

March 5, 2015

Yesterday, after the day and night of heavy rain, I could see my entire brick walkway and sections of my street right down to the pavement. Grass was sticking up in a couple of places in the backyard. When I went out, yup fifth day in a row, I noticed the plowed snow piles on both sides of the roads had become ugly and black. Today, however, everything has disappeared or has been changed. Out my window I can only see fresh snow, heavy fresh snow covering everything and it is still snowing. The layers on the tops of the branches are getting taller and taller. The Cape is the only part of the state with no school. What a horrible distinction. To add to the misery, biting cold is coming starting tonight. My string of five days ends today. I will not be going out nor will I even be getting dressed. I am wearing my around the house flannel pants, a sweatshirt, socks and slippers. I am in my winter uniform, my sloth clothes.

All three animals are asleep in here with me. One cat, Maddie, is on her chair while Fern and Gracie are asleep beside me and each other on the couch. All I can hear is deep breathing, mostly from the dog, but if I pat Fern, she begins to purr. They are my inspirations for a warm, cozy afternoon nap under the comforter. A roaring fire and some cocoa topped with marshmallow Fluff melting on the top would make this the idealized picture perfect winter’s day, a card-worthy day, but it’s freakin’ snowing again and its prettiness wore off quickly.

The first look at snow is the best, an oh moment. After that come the darker, less welcomed visions of shovels and plows, of me throwing and re-throwing de-icer on the steps for the dog and my cleaning off the car for what is, I swear, about the hundredth time. Why I bother I don’t know. The car will just slide up and down the road and right pass my street. My shoes will get snowy and wet. I don’t own boots. I don’t want to own boots. I don’t want to hear the crunch of my tires on newly fallen snow. I want grass and flowers. I want the songs of birds heralding the day and the sweet scent of a spring morning. I don’t think I am asking all that much.