Day 100 . . .
. . . the snow continues to fall. The wife swears that we have had snowy weather since Christmas. I just swear. The truth is that we have been on a winter tear for at least two weeks. There have been sub-zero temperatures, snow . . . lots of snow . . . easily over two feet of snow since this weather jag has hit. The snow just keeps piling up . . . and up . . . and up. It feels like it has been snowing forever.
When it all began it was pretty. It was pastoral. A regular Currier and Ives painting. Awe inspiring. Now it is just . . . “Aw, shit! More snow!” Eventually we all must admit that “snow” is a four-letter word that takes its place among the most profane utterances when winter comes. No longer is the snow pretty, pastoral, or even a beautiful Currier and Ives painting . . . it is a regretful sigh of defeat. The snow is winning.
Though the snow has created its wintry chaos, we Montanans shouldn’t complain. Snow has been needed . . . well, maybe not the snow but the moisture. Montana needed the moisture as we had been moisture depleted for quite some time. Parts of the state have been in drought. The state has had some difficult fire seasons for a couple of years. The snow and snowpack will go a long way in remedying that. Our snowpack will be tremendous . . . way above normal at this rate. The ski resorts are basking in snow drunkenness. Montana needs it . . . we just didn’t need it all at once. I guess Mother Nature got tired of all the whining and complaining. You know what they say, “If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
As an introvert the snow hasn’t upset my world too much. In fact, it basically reinforced the solitude that we introvert value so much. It is quiet. There are no people intruding. It is perfect. Though I revel in this idyllic paradise I know that this is not the case for my extravert family and friends. What started as a peaceful interlude with the first snowflakes falling has become a living hell for extraverts. The snow is killing them.
The snow is taking its toll on the extraverts. They are becoming stir-crazy. It is driving them nuts. They are getting surly . . . grumpy . . . snippy. They need people. They need action and activity. They need human contact. They need engagement. They need noise. This is killing them. Their routine has been disrupted. The misery is real. I know. My wife is an extravert, and she is wallowing in despair.
My wife is not one for profane and descriptive outbursts. This morning with great disdain in her voice she proclaimed, “Shit! This is crap!” The snow just kept falling. She is a cheerful, bubbly optimist but the veneer cracked. As far as she is concerned, enough is enough! Mother Nature needs to tale a valium and get over it . . . crack another bottle of wine. Needless to say, I’m taking precautions . . . at least until the snow abates and she can escape this frozen cell to freedom. One person’s paradise is another person’s hell. Trust me, I know.
As idyllic as it might be for me, I will admit that it ain’t perfect. Nope . . . far from it. With snow comes shoveling. This year, lots of shoveling. Most of the time I enjoy shoveling snow. I appreciate the routine . . . it is almost a form of meditation . . . scoop, throw, scoop, throw. I like seeing the end product of clean walks and driveway . . . a job well-done. That was ten inches of snow ago. Now it is a PITA (Google it.) The routine has changed . . . scoop, groan, swear, throw. Repeat . . . over and over. I have nowhere to put the snow. The snow piles have gotten so massive and tall that I can’t throw the snow over. Who knew that four-foot piles could be insurmountable! The shoveling has sent shivers of profane grumpiness throughout my introverted paradise.
Our dogs have taken different approaches to the winter havoc. Birdie—our Border Collie/Corgi mix—embraces the winter deluge. She loves snow. She relishes the cold and sits on the deck surveying her winter wonderland as temperatures dip below zero. This is her domain . . . her world. Our nine-pound miniature Dachshund hates it. With snow well-over her head each trip out is an adventure in survival for Quinn. Most excursions end mere yards from the deck with her hastily taking care of business. Where Birdie has a double coat of hair for such weather, the mighty Quinn is practically hairless.
Because the snow in the yard has reached epic portions of depth—two to three feet deep, I scoop out a maze around the yard with port areas for doggie business. The problem is that the paths are constantly filling up with more snow. When Quinn runs the maze, you can’t even see her because the snow is so deep. Such is the curse of having short dogs.
Yup . . . it feels like it has been forever snowing . . . 100 days. This too shall pass . . . about June. Weather forecasters are calling for warmer weather by the end of the week with temperatures in the 30s and 40s. With all the snow cover it will be more like the 20s and 30s—shorts weather in Montana. In the meantime, I will tread softly in my introverted paradise, keep space between me and the extraverts, practice my swearing for the inevitable shoveling, and be thankful that we humans have the great capacity to forget. Come mid-summer we will be complaining that it is too hot and it sure would be nice to have a little snow right about now.
No comments:
Post a Comment