Early in February 2012 the snow started to fall; at first it was just harmless flakes swirling in a flurry and ended up a full-fledged snowstorm.
My early morning drive home from work that day wasn’t a big deal – the real snow doesn’t come into play until you get to Sandy Lane. It’s like we have our own little weather maker there on the top of Shadow Mountain.
On those two February days, four feet of snow graced the Bar B.
Getting into the driveway wasn’t the problem what with the downhill slope onto the driveway, however I was concerned what with the snow coming up over the top of the hood as I plowed towards my parking space near the front door. The problem, I knew would be getting out later that day for another shift at work. It was hard enough just to get the car door open and “hike” to the front door, I wasn’t sure I was even going to try getting back out to head to work later on in the day.
The editor of Evergreen Newspapers called me that morning, hoping for weather art to go with a story about the snow dump. Best I had was a picture of my car, buried up to the hood. Not my best work but I wasn’t going back out there.
The back of the house never seems to get as much snow as the west and north sides but this time the snow blocked the back door and I had to resort to feeding the birds and squirrels by opening the window, taking out the screen and with careful aim, trying to toss bird food into the flat feeder.
Later in the day my neighbor Steve used his manly truck with a massive snow plow to scrape down the driveway and pushed mountains of white stuff that piled six feet high. Without Steve, I’m stuck. There’s no getting up that driveway let alone the nasty bend at the end. Add the snow piled up by the road grader that comes down Sandy Lane and you have a recipe for a few days off. I’ve learned to keep the woodpile by the door stocked, canned goods that can be heated on the woodstove and a stock of Diet Pepsi. Just in case.
Somewhere near the path to the front door is the woodpile, long gone under a blanket of white.
The need for a standing structure for the woodpile has become evident. The wood is no longer to be seen although a good portion of it sits underneath a plastic tarp. What’s needed is a free-standing structure that shelters the wood but also allows for drying, since some of the wood down in the Slight Unenchanted Forest will be dropped this summer and will need to cure. The broken trees that once stood up against the north fence have finally dried out (6 months) and most have burned in the woodstove. Jason has been pressed into service to design and along with Paul and whoever else is handy. Something has to be in place by August, because as of September, the snow flies. Case in point, I haven’t seen dirt at the Bar B since … October.
When I first moved up here, one of the first things my neighbor said gave me fair warning that our little street was unusual.
“I hope you like snow,” she said.