The forecasters were right; we got clobbered with snow last night. The storm began around 2pm, and did not let up until 10am or so. I ventured out to shovel last night, but my efforts proved futile. Twice I braved the elements and managed to scrape six inches of snow from the driveway. This morning, though, was an entirely different story.
Donning sundry winter gear, I grabbed my shovel and gazed at the herculean task before me. It was daunting. I tried to open the sun room screen door, but it wouldn’t budge. I had to exit via the garage. The snow was above my waist.
My wife gave me a tape measure and here, in Sturbridge, if you count the six inches I shoveled last night, we received 36” inches of snow. Three feet. Ugh. There was nothing else to do but put shovel to snow, again and again.
It was a great workout, and eventually I vanquished the white stuff. The hardest part was trying to find places to toss the damn stuff. (The photo below is where our cats like to perch and watch birds. But not today.)
There was a driving ban in effect, so only plows plied the roads. They were few and far between so mostly silence embraced me.
Taking many pauses from my exertions, I allowed myself to become enveloped by nature. The snow swirled, the wind whipped fine mists of snow on me, and in places where I just shoveled.
Just standing there in the frigid grip of winter was, surprisingly, comforting. I was part of winter, attuned to the wind and the snow and the silence. It was therapeutic.
Two hours later, the job was done. I stomped snow from my boots, peeled off ice encrusted garments, and joined my love on the sofa for a deliciously warm and healing cup of joe.
So even though we got whacked by Ol’ Man Winter, it was still a pleasure to immerse myself in the vagaries of the storm.
The storm proved relentless, but it allowed moments of being in the Moment.