And the Snow It Snowed

     I woke up Sunday morning to two inches of snow, and snow still falling.
    Immediately, I drove my car the half-mile down the hill to the paved road. Then I walked home, secure in the knowledge that I could get out if I needed to, whatever the snowfall.

    The snow fell all day, accumulating about 16 inches. That night, as I was eating dinner, dark suddenly crashed into the house. Power outage. I finished dinner by candlelight, then read by headlamp. When I turned off the headlamp before getting into bed, the outside world leapt into existence glowing as though electrified as the moon, hidden behind trees, set the world alight. The Big Dipper danced on its long handle over the mountain.

    Clear skies were brief. The snow fell all the next day. Without electricity the silence was silver. The outside world was pristine and white, the snow deep both on the ground and on the trees and falling in a slow, steady, soft drift from the sky. 

    Electricity returned just after midnight. The next morning I thought I should walk down the road and dig the car out, so I put on my ski boots and gaiters and plowed through the deep snow,

trampling a trench I could use for anticipated walks up and down the hill with my groceries in a backpack. Before I had gone very far, a large downed tree, tangled with several smaller trees, blocked my path.

I couldn't climb over it or walk around it. Without access in or out, I was truly snowbound.

    I don't mind being snowbound. Actually, I kind of like the coziness of it, But I had important travel dates coming up, and I didn't want to miss them.

    Maybe I should have the road plowed.

    And spoil all that pristine beauty? No! What a sacrilege to the cold white cathedral.

    Maybe I should change priorities. 

    I called my neighbor with a snowplow.

    He came up and plowed my road into an ugly muddy mess.

    Later I walked down the plowed road to dig the car out. Uneasy about driving the car up a now slushy road, I left it in a more protected spot and walked home, where I sat at my desk, my back to the plowed driveway, watching the snow-laden forest in its pristine, white, glorious beauty.

    This morning the driveway is covered with another three inches of beautiful white snow.