Tag Archives: snow

Snow, keep falling…

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It snowed all day today, but I’m not complaining. We’re supposed to get snow in Northern Indiana, especially in February, so in my mind we’re right on course. Yesterday, though, I was complaining. It was not about the 17 inches that fell Saturday night and Sunday but the condition of US 6 on Tuesday.

My daughter had warned me on Monday that the streets were pretty bad, but it was now 24 hours later, and SR 13 through town was mostly clear. However, that was not true of US 6, which was an integral part of what I considered to be the only sane route to Goshen yesterday, that is, unless you had 4-wheel drive, which I do not.

If you know me well, you know that somewhere in my DNA is the Emergency Preparedness gene, which is my explanation for being quite near if not over the top when it comes to preparing for virtually any life-threatening scenario, including snowstorms/blizzards, floods, tornadoes, electromagnetic pulses, and other catastrophes.

However, my son, as he will attest, has not one smidgen of the EP gene. Case in point, he informed me yesterday that he had just taken the last of his daily prescriptions that morning. So… I sucked it in and headed out to Goshen, sure that 6 from SR 13 over to 15 would be a breeze. I could not have been more wrong.

As I gingerly descended the slight hill to the intersection where I would turn left onto 6, my 69-year-old heart sank and my hands whitened as I instinctively gripped the wheel at 10 and 2. Stretching in both directions were lines of cars and trucks slowly rumbling over a washboard of snow as far as the eye could see.

The road for lack of a better term consisted of a frozen, inches-thick crust of ice and snow, eerily reminiscent of an Ice Road Truckers episode. Thinking that surely it had to get better, I turned anyway; and after what seemed like an interminable length of time during which it did not get better, we reached the blessed black top of SR 15, which was clear all the way to Goshen.

Did I complain? Did I ever! I went over every excuse under the sun that the highway department could possibly offer for US 6 being in such bad shape–wind out of the north, frigid temps, snow 1-2 inches/hour, not enough plows, not enough salt, drivers calling in sick, unnecessary stops at coffee/donut shops. As my litany progressed, my son had the good sense to intermittently agree, probably because my focus was on the highway department’s shortcomings and not his.

When I turned north onto 15, I was thanking God, Jesus, and my angels for getting us there without incident. Of course, at 20 mph, it would have been pretty difficult to have any kind of incident other than a healthy skid. The return trip was much easier, because at least we had a track that reached the pavement. I have to admit that the greatest improvement, though, was in me, as evidenced by unhindered praise all the way home.

All day today, as I’ve gone about my normal tasks, I’ve been glancing outside at gently falling snow, and more than once praising Him for engineering my circumstances yesterday to remind me today of just how blessed I am, especially to not have to go anywhere the rest of the week.

Snow, keep falling just outside my window
where birds flit and squirrels sit,
the red and blue of feathers and reddish-brown fur
the only splashes of color in this gentle landscape.
Snow, keep falling, taking me back perhaps
to forefathers’ memories of hearth and home
left behind to travel west to this fair land of lakes
where homesteads were carved from hardwood forests.
Snow, keep falling, we are still a hardy lot
who love this land that feeds the world,
yet no more than our souls, freshly inspired
by the sacrifices of those who’ve gone before.

Looking beyond what is…

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Yes, we have had a winter of snow, snow and more snow; and according to the weather guy, we’re going to have a bunch more. It’s not that I mind. I’m just glad the precip is coming down in frozen form. In my opinion, there’s nothing more depressing than dull, rainy winter days.

One thing for certain, this weather has given us a lot to talk about: the blizzard with 40 mph winds leaving huge drifts in its wake; school cancelled day after day after day; counties under states of emergency; workplaces closed; college classes canceled; snowplows taking out mailboxes; wind-driven ice missiles finding your already-frozen face; horizontal snow, vertical snow, melting snow, drifting snow, snow potholes, black ice, icicles, ice-coated windshields, and frozen car locks and doors; the scrolling banner of closings and delays every morning and night; and the endless speculation about what it’s going to do weather-wise tomorrow or next week.

I have to confess I’m getting kind of tired of hearing the phrase “I am so done with this snow.” Every time I read it or hear it, I want to very quietly respond “No, you’re not, because it. will. snow. period.” It is, after all, only February!

There is no doubt that weather like we’ve been going through brings hardships into a lot of lives. Heating bills are skyrocketing (mine tripled this month), and there seems to be no end in sight to the frigid temperatures. This is a good time to remind ourselves that while we’re complaining about snow, the UK is dealing with awful floods, and wars and persecution continue in such places as Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan, India and North Korea.

This string of snowy days has held a blessing that I became aware of just today as I sat here writing. Glancing up and out, I saw fluffy flakes drifting slowly down–more slowly than I think I’ve ever seen snow fall. Hour after hour, it continued, and hour after hour I watched. And then toward evening, I looked out to see my usual view of woods and field totally concealed in a white-out so unexpected I just stood and stared.

And then it dawned on me. All of this time that I’ve been lamenting the forecasts, I’ve also been looking outside–beyond the sameness of my house, drawn to an ever-changing vista of trees that seems to be getting shorter as drifts grow taller, flocks of robins hopping from branch to branch to feast on crab apples, fluffed-out feathered friends at and under the feeders, gray snow bands on the horizon, freezing fog rolling across the orchard and pasture, blue skies and blinding sun, and snowplows rumbling by, spraying huge walls of snow with each pass.

There is something freeing about looking beyond what we know by rote to anticipate the unexpected, whether it’s gently falling snow or perhaps direction for our lives. Kudos to the simple joys that take us beyond what is to what will be yet enable us to enjoy today, no matter what.