On the set of Dr. Zhivago

We have lived through a fourth blizzard in as many weeks.  I have no idea how much snow fell this time because the wind took over and redistributed everything.  How do you measure depth when the wind flattens everything as though it were sand on the beach?  All night long the wind howled, shaking the windows, and buffeting the doors.  Gusts rocked the trees and sent fine snow powder into every crevice and crack.  The mounds of snow, which I had thrown off the porch were sculpted and smoothed.  The driveway, which had been plowed, now had a four foot drift blocking the way.  The copper beach in the yard is disappearing, branch by branch. 

This morning, after the blizzard, was bright blue, just like in Dr. Zhivago. The temperatures were appalling, in the single digits.  It was 32F in the garage.  And the wind made my skin sting.

After lunch, when the temperature rose to 16F, I gathered my courage and went out to clear enough of the drifted snow from the driveway to allow us to get a car out.  I was afraid I would not be strong enough.  The banks are so high, I can barely lift the shovel to dump it.  I worked diligently, making limited progress.  I was making a path which was barely wide enough for the car.  I didn’t think I could do any better.  But I have great neighbors.  Their snow blower had been broken, but was finally repaired.  He came over and threw that drift back up out of the way.  I shoveled as well, and between us, we made it possible to get the car out.

We decided that we would head to the gym to walk.  It’s too cold outside for Peter to walk, and it is the best exercise for us both.  Walking a mile in a comfortable temperature helps you deal with the claustrophobic feel of being housebound.

Tomorrow it will snow again, but we are only expecting another three inches.  And the wind has stopped its attack.  I think we can get through this.