Drifting
The talk in town as early as Thursday was all about the coming storm; what would be closed, what was canceled or postponed, how folks were preparing. We had a dusting Friday and another Saturday morning, but the main event was scheduled for last night. This morning it was clear that the wind we heard last night had done a lot of work moving snow. The stairs off the dining room, facing east, were swept nearly clean; but the stairs just feet away off the south facing bedroom doors were piled high. I took Charlie down to the front door where we have heated, snow-melting mats, but they were buried under the drift pile against the west facing door. Opening that door would have brought a mound of snow into the entryway, so we just went into the attached garage for the morning necessities. The cars, parked outside just feet from the snowed in front door were entirely clear.
The world was whited out this morning. To the west we could see the trees that line Gulf Road, but Schoolhouse Hill that slopes up from the far side of Gulf had vanished. To the east we could see Scotch Hill, but none of the ridges beyond it. The snow was fine flakes, nearly dots, but they filled the air. We four were snug by the fire in our small, white world.
Around midday the snow paused. Schoolhouse Hill reappeared, as did the snow covered ridges all the way to the far side of the Susquehanna. I shoveled a narrow path from the dining room door to the edge of the driveway behind the house where I could walk to the barn through snow just below the tops of my high rubber boots. I carried Charlie to the barn, his teeth actually chattering. Jay shoveled the big barn door out so that he could get in to the tractor, and now he’s working his magic, plowing us out. I watched him move earth when he graded Arnie’s back yard, and it’s a similar joy to watch him move snow. He makes it look effortless and obvious, but I’m pretty sure it’s not.
We had company Friday night, and Jay made brisket. He trimmed it Wednesday before he put it in to marinate, and left a big slab of fat. I cut it up and put it in the fridge until Saturday morning. Then, ahead of the storm, I put piles of it on the fence posts for the crows. Our resident pair found it quickly – they keep regular watch on the house, and I feed them often enough to keep them interested. Somehow, they got word out to the neighborhood gang, although I never heard them crowing about their find. Gone in minutes, but there are six crows who had full bellies to see them through the storm.
The brisket was delicious. We shared it with the Chases who Peter and Aviva introduced us to, and with the Quinns, friends of the Chases and our near neighbors. The Quinns have 13 acres of apple orchard and a restored old farmhouse at the corner of Gulf and Manley. Peggy Quinn said that the house was in such bad shape when they bought it in 1989 that it was a toss up whether they’d be better off living in the barn or the house. They raised four kids there, all scattered now, with their own families. Mike has retired from his work as a physical therapist at the hospital in Cooperstown, and Peggy has retired from teaching special ed. The orchard is Mike’s baby, planted 10 years ahead of his retirement. Peggy says she’s still trying to find a hobby as expensive as Mike’s. They brought us some of their fabulous cider. Nice to know neighbors.
In the time it’s taken me to write these few paragraphs Jay has cleared the parking pad, the driveway around the house, and all the way down to Gulf Road. I’ll have a walk this afternoon without slogging through snow or getting it down in my boots. We have no plans to go out today, but it’s nice to know we could. There’s a silent, white world to enjoy, and the work of wind to watch. We plan to spend the afternoon like the snow, just drifting.