Friday, January 5, 2018

Snow Now, Snow Then

Last evening we were forced to travel after dark.  That is still possible but has become more difficult.  When we were about five miles from home the status changed when we entered a squall of intense swirling snow.  Traction was an issue that was dwarfed by lack of visibility.  Our staying on the road was in the hands of the driver of the car in front of us.  Two miles later that car tried to make a left turn onto a well traveled road.  Their turn was early and nearly took them down into a deep ditch.

We still had another vehicle ahead of us and willingly followed them until they tried to turn into their trackless driveway.  Having just watched another driver turn early, they cautiously overshot their driveway.   Now we had the lead and safely made it to our  next turn.  I nearly turned  early but my copilot called out a warning that saved us.  The last mile on River Road was a swirl of white snow, but familiar enough that we knew we were going to make it home.  WHEW!

NOAA radar showed a huge storm mass just west of our location.  We expected to find a substantial snowfall this morning but that was not to be.  Perhaps a windblown inch of new snow covered the ground.  Eleven degrees below zero is forecast for tonight.  Our plants will be forced to make do with a rather thin cover of insulating snow.

Becky found some old prints of pictures likely taken in 2003.  The old mobile home has been replaced with a new modular so that date is probably correct.  In our younger days, meaning our early sixties, playing in new snowfall made this place a four season paradise.  A Swiss Bob was the sled of choice.  It was little more than a seat with handles but it served its intended function amazingly well.

This steep face of the glacial kame terrace provided us with long thrilling rides as the trail deepened with repeated use.  This was the time just before urinary tract cancers entered my life.  My bladder and both kidneys were involved but luck sent me to Doctor Hugh Fisher in Albany.  He was the master of his craft as evidenced by my continued ability to really live on this land.

This picture pleases me.  The knit cap dates from my first pickup truck which was a brown International Harvester.  Its floor boards were largely gone and the road surface was easily seen if one looked down.  Still, it served me well as it always carried me to my destination.  The truck is long gone and the cap is beyond worn but I still use it.  My goal each day is to find a reason here to display another smile like the one in the picture.

1 comment:

Lucy Corrander Now in Halifax! said...

I would not like that drive. I am scared even by reading it - let alone living through it.
Your memories of your hat and truck are warming.