A swarm of winter…

It’s two weeks since I have written here. What on earth has been happening? I’ll tell you what: SNOW. And again, snow! We’ve had wind, sharp cold, heavy snowfalls, and a partial plowing of our street, leaving us cut off from one another by a four-foot windrow of…snow.

Such an overwhelming abundance of snow tends to force its way into your life, to take over time, and concern, as you try to move it, work around it, and avoid it. Such a fall of snow slows everything and everyone down a lot. Moving is difficult, for some, very difficult if they are not experienced snow-walkers, have few winter driving skills, or have neglected to install winter tires on their cars. (“I have ‘all-weather- - I don’t need snow tires!”) Wrong. Braking is done in a much shorter distance with winter tires, and maneuvering an auto is easier as well.

So I have no idea where the past two weeks have gone. All this snow has been a test of sorts regarding issues of recovery and what I can do and can’t to. As a younger man, I reveled in shoveling snow from steps and sidewalks. Oh, like most people, I complained about it. But there is nothing like the rosy cheeks, and deep breathing of frosty air as you walk a snow drift succumb to your efforts and leave with a tunnel of sorts to wherever you are going!

One of the first things the Doctor said to me in preparation for discharge from hospital after a week of rest and diagnosis after my hemorrhagic stroke last March was, “You must not try shoveling snow!” Apparently even wrestling with a snow blower was suspect. When this autumn turned to winter…overnight, as it turned out… I tried pushing the snow, slowly. It works fine if the fall is light. If it is too much of a fall of snow, I fire up the big snow moving machine, and have learned to use it without too much “wrestling” at all! So far so good. Watching a drift disappear into the maw of a snarling monster that chews it up and spits it out is satisfying…but I miss the shovel. Another of those things for which I need “the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.”

For all of us, these new little losses emerge as we trundle through life. For some, the loss is sudden and traumatic. For others the losses are small, scarcely noticed, until…they are suddenly in front of you: something you used to do, but can do no longer. I am now in that club, and I know that some of you are joining me. Welcome! Let’s have a party. Whoever can still open a wine bottle, get at it!