By Lorry Myers
I listened to the weather alerts and hurried to the grocery story, just like everyone else. The shelves were bare so I barely found cookies, Little Debbie and vanilla ice cream which caused me a moment of panic. I also picked up marshmallows and Rice Krispies and a jar of fudge topping.
Solid snow storm staples.
The snow came slowly, timid and shy, and I smiled as it disappeared on my already wet sidewalk. Soon, the wind picked up and the snow starting sticking and I stopped my snickering. I stood at the window and watched the inches increase and the snow blow and wondered how much we already had. The sound of falling snow filled my house with a deafening stillness as my yard quickly turned into a white winter wonderland.
I was not impressed.
I watched the snow fall for the longest time, long enough to feel the weight of it on my chest.
The boughs on my evergreens were bending and broken branches were beginning to litter my yard. I thought about my snow-covered sidewalks and driveway and the ice melt I put down that didn’t help anything. Now I would need my boots, gloves, a heavy coat, and the snow shovel with the broken handle that has been taped together with duct tape.
Sigh.
As I watched the storm, I forgot about all those cookies and cupcakes. I was frozen by the blowing snow and the deep responsibility that came blowing in with it. I am not a winter person and I am tired of wintering. I am weary with the cold and dread my electric bill. One of my gloves has gone missing and a button off my best winter coat decided to go along. They don’t make crockpot recipes for one, and I am certain the mailman fears my frozen mailbox and the delivery people curse my covered sidewalk. Still, winter just keeps coming.
Even though I don’t like it.
For the complete article, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard
