TheBanyanTree: Snow

[Pam Lawley]

This was just fun to read Monique!!!!

Thanks for taking the time to pen your thoughts once again - you're one of
my very favorite writers!!!!!

On Thu, Mar 1, 2012 at 9:09 AM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>wrote:

> At 5:15 am Ash told me he needed to go outside. At least he waited until
> 5:15.
>
> Two nights ago he told me he needed to go outside at 2 am. He tells me this
> by standing at my side of the bed and staring at me. And as if by magic, my
> eyes pop open. I was coming out of the deepest stage of sleep, also known
> as the coma, so I asked Andrew, who never wakes up when he's stared at, to
> take Ash out for me.
>
> Andrew said, quite clearly, "Sure," then rolled over and went back to
> sleep.
>
> Hmph. I gave in to Ash's request, and the two of us trudged downstairs,
> though mostly I was trudging while Ash was blithely running down the
> stairs. When he came back inside he insisted on cleaning up Honey's
> leftover dinner, foraging for the bits of food she may have left at her
> bowl. This was particularly odd since his food bowl was almost full, but he
> had no interest in it. Everyone knows the older dog gets the best food.
>
> Usually when I ask Andrew to get up and take the dog out he complies quite
> nicely, but usually I do it since I am, after all, awake. I'm awake because
> the damn dog is staring at me with his laser guided doggie stare. Why have
> two people awake when one is sufficient for the task?
>
> But I digress, as usual.
>
> For days we've been hearing that light snow is in the forecast, and each
> day it rains. We're not much into snow, here in the PNW, so the idea of it
> is so unexpected that we obsess over it. Mostly we hope it doesn't come to
> that, though some of us don't mind so much. By some of us, I mean me, of
> course, because it's not as if I have to even leave my house. In fact, this
> week I'm not leaving the house. There's too much work to be done, and all
> of it must be done at my desk, all day.
>
> So at 5:15 Ash and I trudged downstairs, he skipping blithely, to discover
> actual snow on the ground. I know it was snow because it is white, and wet,
> and it's still falling. I may have been half asleep, but I'm not totally
> out of it.
>
> I grew up in California, where we had snow only in the mountains, which we
> visited once a year for two days. After I left home at 18 my parents, in a
> misguided attempt to lose me, moved to the mountains and only mentioned it
> to me after the fact, when I was in Europe, as if to say, "Hah! Look at us!
> We moved and you've no place to return to!"
>
> Not that I would return. Does a condemned man, let out of death row for a
> holiday, willingly return? Not likely.
>
> Anyway, I was in Germany, and had plenty of my own snow to contend with.
>
> I've never grown tired of it, though I've done my share of shoveling in the
> midwest years, those years when I could count on a blanket of the stuff to
> impede my daily progress in the winter months. I couldn't stay at home to
> earn money then, not like now, so I learned how to drive in it, shovel it,
> manage it, and even walk in it. And still, every year I found it a wonder.
>
> Andrew grew up shoveling snow, since he's from Anchorage, which seems to
> get its share of the stuff, and he doesn't miss it. "You don't have to
> shovel rain," he tells me, which is quite true. But rain is just . . . wet.
> Snow is wet and not, at the same time. I'm fairly certain that if I had to
> be out and about I would not enjoy the snow as much. I remember driving in
> blizzards, alone, in North Dakota, to get from one half of the state to the
> other, which means much driving in nothingness. I remember shoveling my car
> out every morning and shoveling it back in every night when I was on my own
> in Wisconsin. I remember how in North Dakota I had to back my little Civic
> up on the little road in front of our house. The house was up on a hill,
> with a steep driveway, and when the snow was heavy and I was coming home I
> would back the Civic up down the street so I'd be facing the driveway, and
> then I'd gun it for all it was worth, and if I was good enough, the car
> would make it to the top of the drive. We often had to leave the truck at
> the bottom and walk up, but I could usually get my Civic up.
>
> But I don't have to do any of that anymore. And the amount of snow we get
> is so small that it's not as if I'd have to do any of that anyway. This
> snow may be gone by the time I wake up again. But just maybe it'll stay for
> a few hours.
>
> A girl can dream.
>
> Speaking of which, I'm going back to bed now.
>
> M
>