Search This Blog

Friday, February 8, 2013

The ghost of winters past

With all the brouhaha over the impending storm, I''ve been trying to find out just how much we might get here.  While looking on various websites, I found this reference to the infamous Blizzard of '78. Hoo boy! Do I remember that one! I lived with my 8 year old son in Canton, Massachusetts, a mile from Route 128.
Route 128, Blizzard of '78, from
Sometime during the storm, I heard a knock on my door and opened it to find Scott, our church home teacher, and one of his employees, who'd gotten stranded on 128 and walked to my house. Scott managed to call his wife before the phone went out, but they were camped out on the floor until the storm blew over and the streets were somewhat cleared. 
The next morning, my dog Jody needed to go out.  I opened the back door--which, thankfully, opened inward, for we found a drift across the door leaving scant inches of daylight at the top.  Poor Jody! She was practically standing with her legs crossed by the time we got the doorway dug out.  Finally, out she went--a white dog, all that showed were her eyes, two black dots bounding across the snow.
Scott and his friend dug out my front and back and, as I recall, they set out for home, by foot, as soon as the road was plowed enough to allow foot travel.  It took a week for 128 to be cleared and traffic to be allowed even on the local roads.
As I look back on it, it was a cozy time.  Neighbors got to know neighbors, and we walked everywhere.  The snow was piled high, but so were our spirits.  
My first winter in Colorado brought with it another blizzard.  I was snowed in for days, loving every minute.  I dug my way out to the barn, fed and watered the horses, and gloried in the beauty of the snow.  Everyone who had a tractor pitched in to dig out everyone else.  My little Ford 9N was busy, busy, busy as I drove it here and there, the brisk air brushing my skin, my cheeks flushed and rosy.  Snowmobiles were everywhere, collecting people who couldn't get home, bringing supplies to those who needed them, everyone helping everyone else.  Afterwards I set up my watercolor easle and painted, the sunlight streaming into my living room.  It was a glorious time!
I'm older now and the thought of a blizzard both warms and chills my heart.  Since we don't have a wood stove here, if the electricity goes out, it will become mighty cold.  the storm is supposed to start sometime tomorrow night, so I'll lock the horses in the barn, the goats in their stalls, make sure there's plenty of hay and water available, and put my truck out of the way of the plowing.  If we lose electricity, it shouldn't take too long to set up the generator--once I get a path dug.  Then I think I might just dig out my sketch pad.  Blizzards bring out the best in me.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Moderation is just so I'm aware of your comment.