2014 commenced with traditional midwestern frigidity, with snow falling in the early hours of the New Year. Fall it did, continually, for some 48 hours, dumping almost 18 inches of powdery white in some areas, two feet in others. We managed to accumulate foot or so here on the Cutoff before it was over. We were “snowed in” until dinnertime Thursday night when our good neighbor plowed us out with his truck.
We are so very fortunate, for we had plenty of food put by and our homely nest was cozy and warm. A crude path was swept out early, up to the Barn, where Tom could spend some time in his office. Just the fact that he is doing well enough to do some computer work now is an encouraging new year omen. The snow made all seem clean and right in our little cut off corner, and the ever-growing icicles provided a Zhivagoan mood, giving one the impression of an Ice Palace. We were just glad we didn’t need to string a guide rope from one door to the other, for we were close to white out conditions a few times.
Come late afternoon, when the flakes were no longer dusting our existence, I ventured out, stomping a path to the compost pile, then trudging the opposite direction, down the long drive to the mailbox, which was as empty as Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. No mail awaited, but, it didn’t really matter, for the bills will come when they come.
Freezing, I stood, watching squirrels scamper about, pilfering provisions from a bin full of walnuts Tom left out in the Fall. They were having so much fun, chasing each other, sailing across tree limbs, and leaving shards of shells everywhere, I couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t a little drunk on walnut juice imbibed on New Year’s Eve.
Or, perhaps, they had been under the spell of the garden fairies.
I simply cannot help myself. In spite of the terrible cold (we awoke to -8°F this morning), and the danger, as well as inconveniences, of such snow accumulation, there is still such sparkling beauty amid the cold starkness for us to behold, and, just beyond the five foot towers of snow, there is always the possibility of unexpected visitors.