Snow Etiquette

This morning I had such a good time walking to Mass...and then the "Love is patient, Love is kind" verses were the second reading, and we sang "Here I Am, Lord," both things that remind me of my brave husband. And after Mass, we had chocolate cake, two kinds of brownies, cinnamon rolls and glazed blueberry muffins -- all homemade. The Lord is good.

But that's not what I want to talk about today. I want to talk about snow etiquette.

I walked to Mass in some pretty good snow, and I walked home in a little snow also. But by the time I settled in with my lunch, we had such serious snow that I couldn't even see across the road to the house of the people from Bartlesville! (Yes, the people who just moved in across the street happen to be from Bartlesville. Small world, isn't it?)

I was transported.

And of course I wanted to go out in it. It seemed selfish to go out without Tula, so I put her little leopard-print fleece coat on her and out we went. But once I got out there, I began to worry, as I always do when there is new snow, that we were breaking some kind of rule. When we walk in the deep, fluffy snow, we make tracks. I know my neighbors gripe about the snow non-stop, but surely they find it beautiful. And surely our tracks mess it up for them. So I walked her around our own yard only and when her legs began to shiver, I brought her back in.

Then I went back outside, choose a good spot, fell down backwards and made a snow angel. It's been a long, long time since I did that. And I'm better at it now than I was the last time, maybe because this time I know there's enough snow to actually cushion the fall and not a hidden rock under there. I could have laid in the yard like that, watching the snow, for longer, but I didn't want my neighbors to think I'd had an event and feel that they should leave their fireplaces, bundle up, and come to save me.

Anyway...I'm leaving the topic: Snow etiquette. Is it neighborly to walk on the sidewalks when the snow is beautiful and new, or should you stay in until you actually have to go out to keep it in its pristine condition? Is it neighborly to shovel past your own house, or is it up to other people if they want the sidewalk in front of their house shoveled? The same goes for the snow-blower. I don't mean once this snow has stopped; then, I think everyone appreciates it. But is letting it be pretty until that moment comes the correct behavior?

It's not very cold now that we have snow again. My two-houses-down neighbor may come over to show me how to work the snow-blower. I have a secret: I kind of regret the snow-blower now, because I don't WANT my snow out of the yard! I like walking through the tall snow on the sidewalk and up the walkway. I like not knowing where the stairs end because the snow comes all the way up to the door.

On the other hand, I know not everyone likes it. And I'm not a good shoveler. So if he comes and I learn to snow-blow the sidewalk all the way to his house (because he likes to snow-blow from his house to the house of the next guy with a cool snow-blower), I will be glad. And all the Sackets Harbor dogs will have a path to walk, which means the little ones will be able to walk longer.

I'm rambling, but another thing: Is it good etiquette to rejoice in the snow when all around you your neighbors are hating it? I'm trying to hold back a little, but it's hard. I love this snow, and there is never enough, and it can't possibly outlast my enjoyment of it, no matter what they say!

Water, water everywhere...

If you don't know the poem that inspired the title of this blog and many of its posts, you might think the title of today's post means that something flooded at my house, or perhaps that the melting continues. But if you DO know the poem, you know differently. (And you are probably my father.)

"Water, water everywhere / and all the boards did shrink. / Water, water everywhere /nor any drop to drink."

And that was my experience this morning: Water in the form of snow all over the yard. Water in the form of icicles dripping from the eaves. I raise the lever to turn on the kitchen faucet at 7 a.m. -- a tiny trickle, and then no more water!

So the whole morning and afternoon were spent bewailing the situation, calling my father, and looking up stuff on the internet that told me I was done for and would soon be paying a plumber in gold and pints of my own blood.

I called the village water guy. He came out immediately.

We have a terrible crawlspace. At least you can get to it from inside the house, but once inside, you have to crouch down. There is no light down there. It's cold. It's dark. It's dirty. When we had the flooding, all the guys who came would make the same sad sound upon witnessing it, then they would go down there and start cursing under their breath, and then start whistling. Maybe whistling made them feel better.

Anyway, this man also whistled while he was down there. Then he came up and told me the pipes were frozen. He said I'd done the right thing in turning the heater up to 85 (thanks About.com), but if they didn't unfreeze after awhile, I should call a plumber. He didn't recommend going down there to thaw them myself, thank goodness.

I called the plumber and left a message. Ten minutes later, I tried the water, just in case, and it had come back. Now that's a good plumber: I just had to invoke his name and the problem was fixed!

I called him back and told him never mind, and I could almost hear the sigh of relief all the way in Sackets Harbor (he lives in Watertown). Nobody likes going down in that dungeon.

And so now, here I am. My faucets are dripping. I have bought candles, fire starter logs, a battery-powered lantern so I won't have to hold a flashlight up if the lights go out and I want to read (because yes, folks, I am that lazy). I am ready for a blizzard, and hopeful that one will come. We are supposed to have snow tomorrow night. I hope "the north wind doth blow and we shall have snow. And what shall poor robin do then, poor thing? She'll fly in the barn to keep herself warm and hide her head under her wing, poor thing." But not this bird. This albatross will bundle up and go out in it because she knows it won't last forever.

Five-Minute Blog List

1. There is something they call The January Thaw, and it happened. We could see the grass! It was awful!

2. And then, Joe left for Afghanistan. Fortunately, it started to snow right when I left him and snowed for a few days.

3. But today, it stopped snowing and the sun came out. It is still so cold the inside of your nose freezes, but the snow, somehow, seems to be melting.

4. We are supposed to have a hockey game on the lake this weekend, but I'm not sure the lake is frozen enough for that anymore. I was really looking forward to it.

5. Oh my gosh, I was going to go to Holy Hour, and it's in 30 minutes! I just realized what time it is! Do I still want to go? Not really, but I might anyway.

And that's the news...

Meeeellltttting!!!!

It's cold, sort of, but the snow is melting! It's so sunny that my office at school, which has a south-facing window, is uncomfortably hot. The sun is pretty on what's left of the snow, but there's not much left. I don't like this!

But I do like how happy it makes my colleagues and neighbors.

Selfishly, I wish I'd wake up to a blizzard. I want too be snowed in, iced in, immobile.

But it feels like spring! I can see grass. And mud everywhere.

They tell me February usually has big snow. Even March, sometimes. I've heard of hunting for Easter eggs in snow here. I suppose I believe them. Even Oklahoma has big February snow. That's why I'm glad I was born in that month.

Today I was invited to visit the motherhouse of our school's chaplain, who is a nun and also teaches Early Childhood Education classes. I've always, always wanted to visit a convent. She invited me to eat dinner there, with the 30 nuns, and visit their chapel. So, snow or not, I do have something to look forward to.

(Don't you wish I'd get snowed in at the convent?)

Walking on Water

My husband had a long weekend this week (we're still on it, in fact), and I hoped, as always, for adventure. But if an adventure doesn't involve shooting guns, he's not too into it. So we've been home, and there has been much reading and sleeping and watching movies. I think that's good, though. He won't have much more of that soon, and it's what makes him feel best.

But last night, magically, he agreed to join me and Tula on our evening walk downtown. Sackets Harbor is very pretty at night in the snow. We have faux-historic streetlights designed to glow softly as if they have flames inside, and they still have white Christmas lights wrapped around them also, as does the gazebo at the lake. Even though the snow is (sadly) melting, in the dark it still looks nice.

When we got to the lake, there were twinkling lights all across it, the crunching sounds of sleds being dragged across the ice, the voices of fishermen. And so we decided to walk our dog on the lake.

We didn't walk out far, even though the fishermen were spread all the way to Pillar Point (the village on the other side). So had we fallen through, we would have only been up to our hips or lower. But there was no way we were falling through. The lake has to be frozen at least five feet, Joe said.

It's a very strange thing to walk on a lake you've watched boats on all summer, for the boats to still be standing there, in fact, moored and with their masts clanging in the breeze. We were quiet, walking, though. You don't want to disturb fishermen, and I assume that means ice fishermen also.

Tula didn't know the difference. She smelled around in the snow out there and kept her footing even though there were places that were a little slick. But it wasn't as slick as I expected. There is still a little snow on it, so that gives traction. Sometimes I worried that I could fall through, but then I'd look over and notice the tracks where someone had ridden a four-wheeler out to his ice hut.

It was every bit as exciting as I expected, but I don't have the right words for it this morning. Still, I wanted you to know.

The ice did split with a thunder fit, the helmsman steered us through

I knew this day would come, but I hoped it wouldn't be so soon. No, Joe has not deployed. Tula has not died of eating something poison.

The snow has begun to melt.

It is 38 degrees, and I am HOT. The walkway is concrete, water and mud. I can once again see the doormat. Ice fisherman count: zero. Because the middle of the lake is water. The sidewalks are slush. I found someone's keys that had been lost in the snow because the snow melted away from them. They were in front of the pizza place, which was closed. I took them to the post office, and the woman there is going to put them in the pizza place mailbox with a note because she said they look like the restaurant keys.

The icicles have fallen off the house, and I didn't even get to hear the crash. I must have been asleep.

It's supposed to be above freezing for the next two days, so I figure we'll be rowing ourselves back and forth to town. The next chance of snow we have is next weekend, and it's only a 30 % chance and only for a little snow.

This is terrible! I was told we'd freeze in until April! Is it my lack of faith that has caused this warming?

Another terrible thing about the thaw is that it uncovered Tula's favorite morning walk treat: Poison berries. So I had to stop and fish them out of her mouth every few blocks while wearing mittens -- pleasant for neither of us. She was just so glad to see them again.

But now she's racing around with wet legs, which caused her to have a dramatic, whirling wreck with the recyling bin in the kitchen. I'm sitting here trying to get up and go to work. My boots are soaking wet. My coats are too hot.

We need a blizzard!

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice

Our snow is still here, but there is no new snow.

I went to work today, to be trained as an advisor and prepare for the semester's classes. When I was leaving, I said, "See you tomorrow!" to the department secretary, and she said, "Maybe...Check the weather!" I wish it was because a blizzard was coming, but no: Ice.

I love snow. I love to look at ice. I do not love ice. Ice is dangerous. It hides. It trips you. It spins you.

On the other hand, it is what we skate on. It is what the ice fishermen fish on. It's what makes us able to walk across the lake.

But I don't like when it falls out of the sky. Unlike snow, ice hurts.

So, I hope I get to go to school tomorrow, drink tea out of my office cup, make my syllabi and lesson plans, eat candy with the secretary, get things done. I don't get things done at home. I blog. :)

But the ice may thwart me. We'll see.

I hope they are wrong. I hope it snows instead. We are running low.