Stories from a Snowstorm

Well, I am pleased--and relieved-- to report that we made it through The Big One. My next-door neighbor, who somehow always ferrets out these crucial tidbits of information, dutifully informed us that the "official total" for our town was:  31 inches of snow. Dumped on us in just over 24 hours. Now, Saskatchawan, this is NOT, so some of us were a little bit...stunned and dismayed is a fair description, I think. (It is my humble-but-strongly-held opinion that no single-day-snowfall-amount should EVER start with a 3. It's just so very, very wrong.)

I, for one, found myself moving through the 5 stages of grieving--I mean winter. You know: Denial:  there's NO WAY it is snowing that much around here, nuh-uh, those pesky meteorologists always botch the forecast anyway!  Anger: Geez, look at the stupid snow piling up!  I just hate every white, fluffy, obnoxious little flake out there! Bargaining: If I could please please please get out of the house sometime today, even to go to the drugstore for 5 minutes, I'll promise I'll spend the rest of my life nurturing my fellow man and promoting world peace! Really! Depression: If I have to listen to my children bickering about NOTHING for one more second, I'm going to burst into tears. (I didn't do it! Yes, you did. Did not! Did too!...WAAAAHHHHH!) And finally, Acceptance: well, we're really stuck here, might as well enjoy it. Shoveling burns enough calories to justify a lot of hot chocolate, so maybe it's not so bad.

Some of my favorite moments of the Snowstorm of 2010 occurred after the last flake had fallen, as the sun came out and shone brilliantly on the surreal landscape...
When I waded through the backyard for the first time, the drifts came up to my thighs.
After we started shoveling, the mounds rose taller than my children, who could then walk on top of the "snow walls" without falling through.
The neighbors all congregated outside, chatting and heaving snow together, until we had freed all of our driveways.
The industrious munchkins tunnelled away while we worked, building their own cozy snow caves and pretending they were hibernating.
But nothing bolstered the flagging spirits of our little cul-de-sac quite like the momentous...Snow Plow Sighting!  When we heard the telltale crunch-rumble-scrape of the huge machine bearing down on us, each and every Harold and Harriet Homeowner flew to their window to watch with rapt attention. (See him pushing the gigantic mountain of snow out of the way! Ooh, he's backing up! Here he comes for another pass!  I swear it was better than cable.)  The man behind the wheel must have felt like a Rock Star today, with all the gratitude pouring toward him.

And, because of our Snowplow Hero, I was able to get the heck out of the house today...so now I must go begin creating a Plan for World Peace!