Archives for category: winter

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In like a lamb? There’s another polar vortex event in the forecast–one that should put a chill on the lower 48! Some friends are posting pictures of flowers, and reports that their bees are on the wing. Sigh. For now, we’ll have to content ourselves with pictures from seed catalogues. For us…for now…this is the path to Spring.

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Admittedly, I have not been actively blogging. That’s because I’ve been back to writing. It’s been a pleasure. What with building and planting and gardening, there’s been precious little “writing-headspace” in my life for a couple of years. This winter, the frenzy has diminished enough that I’ve been spending lovely days, in front of the fire, banging away on the laptop. It’s been fun. And I expect that by fall, there’ll be at least one book launch, and that’s fun, too.

Every now and again we look up from our activities and realize that this, this moment, this experience, is why we’ve done all of it, anyway. We’re here, now.

My current book project has something I’ve not done before. It has actual villains. And that’s a different kind of thread for me. But this week, I read an opinion piece in the Washington Post that set me back a bit. It was about laziness in writing about villains. The author is a woman who suffers from a facial deformity. Her complaint is that movies and books frequently use non-standard appearances–disabilities/scars/disfigurement–in a short cut to describe villains. To her, it adds insult to injury, and increases the levels of suspicion she encounters in her day to day.

Nailed. I’d been doing just that. It’s easy in a manuscript of Prohibition Era thugs to make the villain visibly different. That way, one needn’t tediously show, by his actions, just how depraved he is. And it is lazy. It reflects a “lookism” world view that I generally reject. So this week, I’ve been re-writing. My villain is still a thug, but no longer an ugly thug. I appreciate the viewpoint and it’s timely connection to my own project.

I think the comeuppance will result in a better book, one that better reflects my values.

My Favorite Kind of Snow–

A.V. Walters–

It was my favorite kind of snow, when I was a kid. Most kids like the sticky stuff, good for snowballs and snowmen. I loved the wind driven dry snow–small flakes pressure blasted into elaborate drifts. You could use the edge of your mittened hand as a saw, and cut blocks of snow, that you could then stack, carefully, as bricks for building forts. Sometimes, only the surface of the snow would have the necessary rigidity. But a really stiff wind could provide almost igloo-like blocks. Sure, you could build a snow fort out of the sticky stuff, but that was too easy. It yielded a rounded, lumpy wall, not the crisp, architectural look of a snow block wall. Of course, you could always take the snow shovel to a sticky-snow wall, and scrape it into a smooth surface. You could even spray it–and turn it to an ice wall. These are the ideas that kids have about permanence. Your fort could last weeks, or longer. It could be impervious to attack, from other kids–a true fortress.

We are having a late season blizzard. Yesterday, after hours and hours of a howling wind and driving snow, we had a break in the storm. The day was like a survey course in types of snow–from pea-sized snow chunks, to quarter-sized soft, lofty flakes–with every configuration in between. The forecast promised a warming trend and freezing rain today, so we took advantage of yesterday’s respite to clear the entries, the driveway and some of the paths. It was eight inches of lovely, wind-driven snow. If we waited, we risked having a driveway and walking paths of eight inches of iced, wind-driven snow.

Rick fired up the Kubota for the driveway and I used the snow shovel around the car, and for the narrower paths and entry areas. If I’d had more time, I’d have built a fort. As it was, I could cut large blocks of relatively light, but rigid snow, which I could then scoop up, and toss some distance. It was fun. Of course, that method entails a lot more lifting than just scooping, but there is a certain satisfaction in those carved-out, crisp and orderly edges. In just under two hours, we’d finished up nicely–not bad, considering that the driveway is 400 feet. Thank god for the snowblower.

After we’d dusted off and come in to warm up in front of the fire, the storm resumed in full force. The winds, screaming through the trees, commanded our attention. We’d wander from window to window, peeking out, to watch the driving winds filling in our neatly carved perimeter. The oil lamps were set out; we expected outages.

It has not warmed up. The forecast was wrong about the winter-mix and freezing rain. What we have today is wind, with more snow and dry sleet. I’d go shovel again, but that sleet looks painful. Even if it would be cool to see how that new snow carves up under the edge of the shovel blade, I value my creature comforts. It can wait.

My father, my snow-shoveling mentor, would not have approved. Though he’d wait out a squall, his snow-shoveling principles required that access, and a clear vehicle, had to be maintained. What if there were an emergency? I fall short of that mark. But then, he had a short driveway and a garage.

Even the critters are hunkering down for the storm. Lately, we’ve been amazed at the variety–deer (of course), squirrels, chipmunks, turkeys, blue jays, robins, eagles, sandhill cranes, raccoons–all either directly visible, or leaving easily identifiable tracks. They’re gone now. The only animals to brave the storm have been the grouse. Even in sleet and strong winds, the grouse are clinging to the thin branches of the Black Cherry trees, swinging in the wind, and nibbling at the buds. They are either very hardy, or very hungry.

I’m getting old. Too often now, my favorite kind of snow, is the stuff that makes up the view out the window. Maybe it’s just been a long winter.

Spring? A.V. Walters–

Don’t get me wrong, I love winter. But we’re nearly halfway through April. We’re having a blizzard. There’s no point in posting a picture–it’s all just white. In less than a week, 100 or so trees will arrive for planting. They ship on a schedule rooted in season. Sigh.

I’m ready for sunshine, and the smell of fresh dirt, and bees, and watching the tiny new leaves on the trees.

I’m eternally grateful for a snug new home, and a lovely fire in the wood stove. But Spring! Is it too much to hope for?

Break out the snow shoes. Who said anything about Spring? It is beautiful, though.

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We woke up to another six inches. It’s spring snow, sticky and heavy.

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And still falling…

It changes how you look at the day. (And makes adjustments to your schedule.) No gardening today!

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Our work is cut out for us. Oops—forgot to cover the tractor after clearing yesterday. I guess that’s where we start.

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The Myth of Snow Removal

A.V. Walters

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For the traditionalist…

There is no such thing. When it is time for it to go, snow will go on its own. Until then, all we can do is push it around—out of our way. We should really call it snow relocation. “Snow Removal” is a big ticket item on many northern, rural budgets. For many, the face of government is one’s local township clerk, and the guy who drives the snow plow. For public road maintenance, the standard snow plow is the way to go.

Snow management for the homeowner, or small business, poses important questions. First and foremost is the basic question of egress and access—unless you manage snowfall, you simply cannot get from here, to there. Immediately behind egress and access is the question of safety. At what point does the danger of a slip-and-fall land on the shoulders of the pedestrian? What is the responsibility of a business for access safety? When in doubt, wear spikes. It’s an inexpensive measure of safety. (Just remember to remove them at the door.)

The farther north you go, the higher the level of social tolerance for snow inconvenience. We know how to drive and schlep in snow. Snow management falls into one of three categories—pushing it aside (plowing and shoveling), scattering (snow blowers) or compaction—the old fashioned method of just traveling on top of the damn stuff—making for layers and layers of slippery, which are the seasonal measure of geologic sedimentation. Snow-blowers and their ability to disperse the mess make modern snow management easier. You never have to have a place to store the season’s bounty. The biggest issues in determining your snow management method are amount, effort and space. How much are you willing to sweat for access, and where the hell will you put the stuff?

When I was a kid, snow was shoveled by hand. That’s what kids were for. Driveways were relatively short. (I’m sure you’ve driven by a lovely old farmhouse and sighed at how close it was to traffic. Roads have widened over the years, and old houses were built sensibly closer to the thoroughfare.) Mechanization has freed us from those old, utilitarian limitations. Now, it is not unusual to see the McMansion on the hill, with its thousand-foot driveway. Woe to them, should petroleum become scarce.

We have our own range of snow equipment. The snow-blower on the tractor can clear a five-foot swath in a heartbeat. We have a hand-push blower, which we almost never use, favoring the flexibility of the traditional snow scoop or the northern version (the yooper-scooper), which makes it easier to move the snow some distance. In the North, snow removal is the aging test of whether it’s time to move into town. At that point, either you move, family helps out, you pay for snow removal, or you rely on the kindness of strangers. Since my father passed, my brother-in-law has dutifully kept my mum’s driveway clear. Rick and I are young yet, and are nowhere near those kinds of considerations. But…

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The Yooper-scooper–available only in the far north, wherever premium snow implements are sold.

I never had children. I wonder if Rick’s California kids understand the mores of familial obligations in the North.

 

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Notice Anything New?

Can you see it? It’s transformational! It changes everything.

This isn’t smoke and mirrors. (Well, maybe smoke.)

I’ll give you a hint. It’s about heat.

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