The wind yesterday had a Biblical feel, I see we had one of the highest snowfall rates in the country yesterday, we are a bit proud of that. The wind caused an hours long white-out, blow snow off of one roof, one another, set up a quirky little mountain range of drifts. It felt a little personal at times, as if the snow was coming for us.
Outside, we couldn’t see more than a few feet, the animals were frightened, which is unusual for them, they had lost their bearings or sense of security – prey animals like to see a great distance so they can spot predators, they really get unnerved when their view is blocked like that and they feel they can’t hide.
We calmed them by frequent visits and some good hay at intervals. They seemed to feel more secure with us around. They were protected from the snow, but the fierce winds blew into part of the barn.
They also came into my office, I was startled to see this morning that the wind had blown a lot of snow right into my office window, it flew the fine snow right through the new storm window we put in last year. The window has only micro openings in it, no openings big enough to see.
That was a first.
So, I thought, you were after me and my computer? Nature is impressive when it gets stirred up. We are mostly dug out, tired but happy. Spring is looking good, when it decides to stop by.
Lots of people are asking in various ways if I am overdoing it, helping to dig out of this stunning blizzard. I won’t lie to anybody, the answer is yes, I definitely overdid it this morning, so did Maria. I raked snow off of the roof, helped shovel out the porch, dug through heavy drifts to reach the bird feeder, dug out the mail box buried by the snow plows, dug out one of the completely buried hay feeders, dug out the snow that blew into the barn, dug out he cards and cleaned them off.
It was a matter of survival. Either you dig out or stop living, and digging out is a part of life here, it happens a lot less than it used to happen. I am not macho and have little high-octane testosterone, I have nothing much to prove and do not excel at men stuff. My doctor gave me good advice. Shovel until it stops feeling okay, and it never stopped feeling okay. I started to feel worn out, a slight tightness in the chest, so I stopped after a couple of hours.
It is possible, of course, that I am just affirming my own mortality and yielding to the male ego, but I can’t just sit in the house while Maria is shoveling tons of snow and looking paler than me. She is tough and strong, but there is not much of her, she was wearing out.
And I can’t turn my life over to young men who do this for money all the time. As I told the cardiologist, I’d rather keel over in the snow, my choice. He nodded, your choice. Shovel the snow as much as you can.
Every time there is a big storm like this, I get a bunch of messages gloating (politely) from people in South America, Mexico, Florida, California, Costa Rica and New Mexico.
David Welch wrote: “I miss winter like I miss a rock in my shoe.” Someone wrote me from Panama saying contentedly that he was happy to have just one season. Warm and sunny.
I get that, I thought of being warm yesterday as Maria and I slogged out into the howling winds and sub-zero temperatures and whiteout snow again and again.
But the truth is, I love winter and would despair at being without it. If you can’t overdo it, move somewhere else.
For one thing, winter is beautiful, a season of black and white, of contrasts. A resting time for all of life, a time to reflect.
Winter forces us inward, into the dark and the quiet. It is a time of tea, wine, wood stoves, talks with friends, early bedtimes, candles, reading good books, walks in the beautiful woods without bugs and ticks, gorgeous snow-capped hills and mountains.
It is a good writing season, few temptations to go outside early in the morning. A time to overdo.
Winter defines Spring, and Spring is magical here. It isn’t just another warm and sunny season. It is wondrous to watch the grass turn green, the animals begin to graze, the buds in the garden come up. A blizzard like this one will make Spring all the sweeter, each season here is so different and distinctive, we never stop appreciating the earth and it’s countless small miracles.
A blizzard is exciting. We get out the candles, fill the bathtub. We think of how cold and embattled the people who built the house must have been in a blizzard. Little warning them, it probably would have killed off their cows and sheep. We have days of warning, we are always ready.
When we go outside after a storm like this, we strategize and become a team, helping one another, watching out for one another. At one point, Maria took a look at me and decided it was enough. “Get in the house,” she said, taking my shovel away. I did. We had some tea, rested and headed out again. I know when she means it.
Amazing what we accomplished together this morning.
We’re okay and ready to get back to life.
The cars cleaned off and ready to go, the porch cleared off, some of the heavy snow raked off of the roof, paths dug to the pasture, and within the pasture, to the feeders so the animals could move around. The mailbox had been blown open by the wind, the flap was open, it was filled with snow and packed in by the snow plows. We got that dug out as well. I dug a hard path through the big drifts so we could get to the bird feeders (they need us now) and for the first time, I saw a pile of snow inside the door to the big old barn. It blew in under the door, the wind was so strong.
When I first went outside this morning, I groaned. The drifts were up to my head. All the shoveling we did yesterday was obliterated i the cold and snowy and windy night. We got the full brunt of the storm.
This will take days, I thought. I better call for help. But then, we did what we always do, we just go on with. Even this much snow can be handled if you focus on it and work together.
It felt good to do that honest work together, I am done for the day shoveling. Enough is enough, I don’t wish to overdo it any farther, I proved my point to myself and got the job done. I think of Spring with almost every shovel, in a week or so I will be sitting out on one of the wooden chairs, watching the animals, looking out to the Green Hills of Vermont, just down the road.
Winter gives me life and work and purpose. It is part of what makes living here special. Winter challenges my photography and informs my writing. I would never trade winter for one long warm and sunny season. I’d rather have a rock in my shoe.
And isn’t that what makes it great to be alive? Overdoing is a call to life.
I love winter and I can almost sniff Spring, the sweet season of color and light.
I am excited to post this video Maria and I (and Fate) made this morning in the living room (the studio is unreachable in the snow). Her “Show Your Soul” posters have struck a deep nerve, many people – women especially – seem to grasp the idea intuitively. It was sparked by something Clarissa Pinkola Estes wrote, that in difficult times, we must “show our souls,” be who we really are, find our voice. Again and again.
This inspired a quilt, then the posters. Before she went to India, Maria was flooded with requests from women who wanted to take them on the Women’s March. She promised to have them printed and offered for sale when she got back, and she has done that, they went on sale the other day and the first printing is sold out. She has the second printing in hand.
As a man, I am touched by these posters as well. This is my practice, rather than arguing or panicking or complaining – to do good as often as I can, without drama or rationalization.
Come and see. Fate, who minds everyone’s business around her, actively participated in the video. The posters cost $16, including shipping, and Maria takes Paypal and checks.
These You Tube videos we are doing have been very successful, drawing at least 1,000 views, drawing existing and new people to Maria’s work. On the video, you can see the posters, learn what inspired the idea and hear Maria explain it herself. Pretty neat. Come and see.
First, we have to dig out some paths. Then get more hay to the animals and make some paths for them (they can’t get out of the Pole Barn), then I have to rake some snow off of the roof, the snow is five or six feet high. Then we have to dig out the cars and the mailbox. Then clean off the porch and the basement door, now buried in seven or eight feet of snow. We have to get to the doors of the barn. We’ll sleep well tonight. Our farmhouse is sturdy and tight we are grateful for it. Lots of people had it a lot worse than us, much of Massachusetts is without power.
Got to check on some of our neighbors, see if they need help. More later.
Good morning, I hope everyone in the Northeast is warm and dry. We are absolutely buried here, more than three feet of snow, the animals trapped in the Pole Barn, all the paths we dug yesterday blown over. We are digging our way to the animals, and then trying to dig out the cars and get some of the tons of snow off of the roof. I am going to be digging and shoveling with Maria for the next few hours.
There is even a ton of snow in the hay barn, blown in through the cracks and under the sliding door. We have to clear out some paths for the animals to get to the feeders, they are anxious and bewildered. I’ve been warn to go slow and pace myself, so I will, but so far, no troubles at all. We never lost power, we are luckier than many, but that wind was Biblical, we have eight and nine foot drifts around the house.
The good news is that the sun just came up and it will be a beautiful day But we have an awful lot of work to do, and I am thinking of all the people who are in the same boat all over the region. We got hit very hard up here, one of the biggest and most intense storms I have ever seen. I think I won’t get much work done on my book today, and Maria won’t get much art made, but we will put our heads and backs into it and start digging.
