Life In the Snow Lane

For the past couple of winters we have been almost pining for a big dump of snow. It’s sparkly and clean, and it opens doors to activities outside. But during the past week we have had that big dump, over and over again. And we are somewhat overwhelmed. How did we manage to forget all the difficulties and disruptions that snow can bring?

After Peter and I saw the first snow we got ready to go outdoors. First we had to dig out our insulated high boots, the ones with the good grip. Our usual shoe/boots would not make it through the drifts, or keep us steady on the ice buried underneath. Then we found mittens because gloves just don’t keep fingers warm enough. As the crowning touch, Peter uncovered his Russian-style hat with ear flaps, and I put on my ear muffs. We were fashionistas!

On Friday the driveway had to be shovelled and Peter found our electric snow-blower which he hadn’t used in 2 or 3 years. It cleared the driveway just fine, but the piles at the end of the driveway left by the city plows were just too much for that little engine. After Peter tried the shovel, with little to show for his effort, a lovely younger neighbour from across the street offered to help. The excitement of shovelling was starting to wear thin so without hesitation Peter said yes.

When we were able to get the car out, we went canvassing for our local provincial candidate. The wind was howling and many sidewalks were not plowed. We had to climb over piles and drifts so we could walk on the road. Then we had to climb back over the plies to get to the homes, where the front steps were usually slippery. When we knocked on the front door, nobody was home. Or maybe they were home and just not opening the door to the cold winter winds. Who could blame them? According to records, this is the first election held in the winter since 1887, thanks to you-know-who.

Our candidate’s sign is almost buried.

On Saturday afternoon our extended family visited us to eat Canadian roast beef and help celebrate 3 family birthdays. Our daughter, who was bringing the salad, showed up at the door at 1:00 pm while I was still in my pyjamas. She had delivered the salad all the way from Orangeville and then, after a quick visit, she and her husband and the dog drove back to Orangeville before the snow got really heavy. This was a big sacrifice with little gain for them. I couldn’t even give them any (as yet uncooked) roast beef.

I hurried to get dressed before the next guests began arriving at 2:00. While I cooked the roast and set the table, the young dads and their sons bundled up and set out on a trip to the toboggan hill. Peter followed with his ipad so he could take pictures. They returned an hour later, all snowy, red-faced, and smiling, and we all ate dinner together. We hurried through the birthday cake course so everyone could clear off their cars and try to drive home. They made it safely, but it was a slow go.

On Sunday morning we looked out to see even more snow. Peter found numerous ways to delay his daunting task. He read the newspaper which the carrier had somehow delivered during the night, he helped me clean up the kitchen, he even took a short nap. Then he donned his Russian hat and went out. But a surprise awaited – the driveway was clear! Another wonderful neighbour, this one with a monster snow blower, had beaten him to it.

One really good thing about snow – it brings out the generosity of family, friends and neighbours.

Sue

One thought on “Life In the Snow Lane

  1. Well said, Sue! To find the joy in snow is to be a true, blue Canadian. You and Peter were well -prepared in every way, and what you said about people rising to the weather as well as the times makes me bless my dad for choosing Canada over USA and Australia for our new home back when.

    I dared the drive on Saturday to see Fifteen Dogs with Christine Paige and a friend in Toronto, Amanda. The drive back was white-knuckle driving, shades of the days when I commuted from Weston to Newmarket for my work at the optical.

    These waist high drifts here are giving me a six-pack. Yay!!

    Warm Canadian hugs – the only kind – to you and Peter.

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