Snow Envy

Around here people don’t talk too much about it . . . especially this year.  But it is there lurking in the background just biding its time to make a grand entrance into the conversation.  In a typical year it wouldn’t even be an issue.  The problem is that this hasn’t been a “typical” year.  Far from it and because of that everyone has been tiptoeing around saying it . . . we’ve got a bad case of “snow envy”. 

Two-thirds of the way through January and we have had an irregular winter—warmer than usual temperatures and a lack of snow.  No one has hardly had to shovel this year as there has been no snow to shovel.  It has been downright balmy and pleasant to the point that plants and trees are confused . . . plants that should be dormant are sprouting and growing and some trees are even budding . . . they think its springtime.  I haven’t even put away my shorts from the summer because I am still working on that tan.  If this keeps up I’ll need to mow my grass before the start of February.

 

And no one is saying anything . . . well, almost no one.  Farmers and ranchers are always moaning and groaning about the weather.  Can’t please that group of people when it comes to the weather.  It is either “too much” or “not enough”.  They are never satisfied.  If they got the “perfect” weather, I hope that everyone is prepared for the Second Coming because it is going to be a miraculous event.  This year even the farmers and ranchers have a major case of “snow envy”.

 

Since the political leaders in charge deny it, we can’t blame it on climate change.  But something is up creating this situation.  The weather has shifted and gone east.  The weather being experienced in the east as a historic catastrophe is our typical Montana weather.  All that snow and cold those Easterners are experiencing is our normal.  In our balmy environment we sit back in envy witnessing perfectly good winter weather pound the east knowing that they have little to no appreciation of the gift they are receiving.  What was once ours is now theirs. It is making us jealous and filled with “snow envy”.

The normal expectation around here is that there is snow and lots of it by now.  Instead, we have the false spring.  No snow.  No ice.  No shoveling.  No complaining (at least not out loud). Here in Montana snow is important to our environmental health and our image.  The mountain snowpack dictates our snowmelt which flows into our rivers and streams to keep everything green . . . and fireproofed. Without it we have problems, especially with wildfires.  At the rate we are going it is beginning to look like we are going to have a long fire season.  Lots of fire and smoke.

 

Normally I wouldn’t have “snow envy”.  I am not a “snow worshipper”.  I appreciate the snow.  I understand its importance and role in the bigger picture of things, especially in Montana.  Snow is important.  A necessary evil.  Remember, snow is a four-letter word.  That being said, I want people to understand that like everyone else I get tired of snow.  Tired of shoveling it.  Tired of scraping it off my car.  Tired of piling it up.  After one or two good snows, like everyone else, I have had enough.  Like everyone else at that point I too curse the snow. Outside of one good shoveling so far this year I haven’t had the opportunity to pull out my lament of snow profane snow cursing.

 

I miss the snow.

 

I am envious of those who live east of Montana who have been receiving what was rightfully ours.  Send it back.  We have plenty of room for it.  We can accommodate it.  Appreciate it.  Handle it.  We are used to it.  We miss our snow.

 

There . . . I have said it out loud.  Someone had to say it . . . someone had to get the ball rolling.  Saying it out loud should get us some snow (knock on the wooden snow shovel handle).  May the words I have spoken magically float to the heavens imploring Mother Nature to get back to business as usual . . . dump the snow on us!  Now that it has been spoken . . . acknowledged, may it come to be.  We are ready to pay the price.  “Snow envy” does not look good on us.  Let it snow!!!

 

Red, Red, Robin

People are beginning to post pictures of robins on social media proclaiming that spring is on its way.  The sunny weather and warm temperatures we’ve had in Montana certainly hint about spring coming.  It is tempting to hop on the bandwagon, drop one’s guard, and embrace the impending spring fever that is floating in the air.  But . . . be warned . . . Mother Nature is a fickle old broad!

I spied a robin in our backyard this morning traipsing around the snow that is still residing in the yard.  I can assure you that seeing a robin is not a sign of spring.  Not all robins migrate.  They hang around all year-round.  I have seen robins around the homestead every month of the year.  I’m not sure what is wrong with these hardy aves to want to stick around for a Montana winter.  Maybe they are lazy and don’t want to have to haul butt south for the winter.  Maybe they are not the smartest and didn’t understand the call to fly south.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that there are robins that seem to like hanging around all year round in Montana.  Because of that I do not get too excited . . . spring ain’t here yet!

 

Hey!  It is the start of March, and I said, Mother Nature is a fickle old broad.  Here in Montana, January and February are the prelude to what is yet to come.  The truth is that a lot of snow comes in late March and early April.  One year the lead up to Easter we had close to 70 inches of snow.  Yeah, 70 inches!  It was a great boost to the mountain snowpack, but a big downer for those who had embraced the spring myth.  Some of the best and biggest snows in Montana are in what people call spring.

 

They say in Montana that if you don’t like the weather . . . wait five minutes.  But they say that in a lot of states.  The big joke is that a person can experience all four seasons in a day in Montana.  And it is true.  I’ve decided that there are basically two seasons in Montana—hot and cold.

 

As much as I would like to join in the chorus of spring’s impending arrival, I tread gingerly.  Mother Nature will herald spring when she is good and ready.  In the meantime, we get what we get.  Don’t fall for false signs of spring.  Just because your neighbor is out shoveling snow in shorts it doesn’t mean spring is here.  No, it probably means that your neighbor isn’t dealing with a full deck.  That neighbor who plants those flowers and vegetable seeds . . . not a sign! Nope, it is just the annual sacrifice to the garden gods.  They will be replanting.  The Chicago Cubs starting the season with three straight victories . . . not a sign!  Come on!  It’s the Cubs!  False sign.  Don’t fall for it.  Even the scriptures warn us to watch out for false signs.

 

Don’t get your hope up with the first robin you see in the weeks to come.  It ain’t spring.  It is just a wayward bird who never flew south.  Why would you trust a bird who didn’t take the chance to head south where it is warm and instead stay for a Montana winter?  Don’t let Mother Nature play you like a string instrument.  When she is ready, she will deliver spring in all of its glory.  In the meantime, grab a drink, park yourself in front of a window, and enjoy the roller coaster ride.  After all, the weather changes every five minutes.  It is better than anything you could stream on television.

 

When the red, red, robin comes bob, bob, bobbin’ along

There’ll be no more sobbin’, when he starts throbbin’ his old sweet song

(Al Jolson - When the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along--1926)

 

Be patient.  Don’t fall for it.  Spring will come . . . be patient.  Yup, I saw a robin . . . it was just Mother Nature jerking my chain.

 

Argh! Never-ending Snow!

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.