“I’m out to shovel at 7 am, my heart set on making a dump run. It’s Saturday, and I’ve been waiting. Less traffic congestion if you get there before 9, & room to pull the truck right in front of the recycle shed. In our town, five vehicles at once is annoying. I’m a planner. Strategy has turned out to be way more important, than I thought initially. Maybe I should have thought a little harder before I got married, both times. But at least now, I’ve mastered a few techniques, that make life easier. Stepping out into the mountain snow, there’s a bit of melting in the air. Not ideal, given three feet of hard going. The snow is already seeping down into my boots; being too lazy to put on lace-up Sorels, I’ve slipped on my insulated rubber ones, with the hole. I can’t be bothered to attach ice cleats. I’ll deal. The house isn’t freezing, so I’ll forgo restarting the wood stove. I look at the cat, who I can tell, doesn’t like this last decision. Oh well. Can’t please everyone, and I’ll come in later, to eat breakfast, & revisit the temperature drop. The wood box is empty. But I’ll fix that too, once I get started. My oldest shovel, is the most reliable one. I scan my dooryard, wondering where to start, which paths to make, from where, to where. I guess, I’ll do my first run, towards the wood pile still tarped and now fully buried. This path will run in front of a deck, still under construction, and plywood gangplank, to the studio side entrance. Looking up, I see what might slide off the roof, and hit me. So, be forewarned, not to linger there. A motivated start, to a long ass day, ten hours outdoors. I think I miss my landscaping freedoms, those luxurious, unfolding days of industry, that always come to an abrupt close, in November. I can’t really replicate the joy, in December, without these huge weather events that call me to action. Next up, a couple hours more shoveling, and I’ve aced the 90 degree turn, all the way to a pile of pressure treated lumber I’d hoped to move out of the driveway. Things don’t always go according to plan, regardless of your planning prowess, do they? The makeshifts weights securing these tarps keep sliding off, so I get my broom, to follow the shovel, to finesse the unveiling of this construction obstacle. We’ll move that shit tomorrow, I’ve been promised. But snow can’t just go “anywhere”. The places it will not be in the way of a future plow, or my own next project: “Finding the Truck”, are limited. I realize I’m getting anxious, to free the truck. I parked it two days ago, locked in 4WD, and should be able to back it up, after some careful snow removal work. I’m easily distracted, and wander to a new area, by the propane heater vent. Then, soaked and cold suddenly, I run inside, to switch out gloves, change pants, put on dry socks, alternate coats, of which, I have many. Around this time, Donny shows up with his plow. He does make a difference, in terms of the front of the garage. But, basically, I’ve so junked up most of my driveway with rough sawn beams, rafters, floor joists, and cord wood, he can’t get in here, to clean it out, and my “come to Jesus” moment, is at hand. No disrespect, because Jesus would have loved this kind of a human puzzle, I’m sure of it. Would have advised me to love the mess I’ve made, and merely orient it towards more love, to save myself. So, I’m going deeper. Thigh high, with my serious boots on, I dig out the Chevy. Right around now, Nikki and Matthew are walking down the road. “We’re going to get D.’s tractor” she yells. “Do you need some tractoring?” I nod, because, I guess I do. But I’m also prepared to do it without heavy equipment. We’ll see what happens. His place is up a long hill, and this snow is exceptionally slippery. Donny’s been stuck already and didn’t back drag, like I asked him to, because he doesn’t have chains. So, I’m not holding out much hope for the tractor, honestly. It’s best to proceed as if you’re not going to get any help, I find. If you end up getting it, it’s like icing on some amazing cake, you didn’t expect to be eating. I’m now almost all the way, to making an attempt, to back up my truck. A little side shoveling, also, to save my Aborvitae from total destruction by plow, and make a path for my Airbnb guests to get into their lodging. That’s worth it, well worth the time. I move the picnic table umbrella, & two plastic Adirondack chairs, panting with effort, into an outbuilding, the grandkids future playhouse. These drifts are almost waist high. Sort of fun, sort of not. I’m not trying to be heroic, just practical. Some of this is stirring up a bit of anger, I admit it. Lack of men, in the traditional sense, who I don’t have to ask, or pay for help. I hate asking. I struggle with paying. Anyway, that’s life, it is what it is. I love all the genders, and all genders have shown up, at various times. I am not complaining. So, I finally get to the wood pile, and start digging it out. I did this last year, and though I vowed never to do it again, here it is, and I guess it’s my zen practice to repeat what I didn’t want to repeat. Sort of like a mantra you’re sick of but when things go wrong, you immediately start saying it. Because, it works. Today, somehow, may be working. I can see my neighbor Anne down the hill, with her shovel, and she looks up towards my wood pile, and yells that we will both be ready soon, to go to the bar and enter a arm wrestling match. This is the way winter is supposed to be. Inconvenient, energy draining, soul feeding, winter. Depressing, enlightening, illuminating, festive. In no particular order. When 5 pm rolls around, and the solstice darkness thickens, I’m still making a full court press to get my wheel barrow up a very small embankment, to where I’m stacking my logs, under cover. All day, its been this sticky snow, & the wood ash I’ve scattered to prevent slippage is smudged into the floorboards of my entryway. It’s not pretty, and I’m stumbling a bit, maybe I overdid it, whatever. I never did make it to the dump. I just decided, the roads might be too dicey. As per my usual, I know that tomorrow I’ll be able to start my day, in a totally different way.”
