Friday, January 20, 2012

Snowed In

Our Gardening Shed

This was a storm that had been expected to last only a few concentrated days of cold and snow, to be followed by a kind of “Pineapple Express” that would bring warm temperatures and lots of rain to melt away the anticipated 6 to 8 inches of snow.  We usually have fairly mild winters with only a few seasonal events.  This was one of them.  I guess it was our turn to get on the national evening news.
Late Wednesday night, when this was all supposed to be winding down and turning to rain, the snow continued to come—even more heavily.  Laden trees snapped their branches and knocked out power lines.  Just as our power went out, I looked out the window and saw an enormous flash and heard an immediate loud bang coming from the transformer across the street.  Throughout the remainder of the night, the snowplows criss-crossed our neighborhood streets, trying to stay ahead of the snow, even as power trucks were also repairing downed lines.  By morning our power was back, but the hard work of the snow crews was to no avail and it was evident that we wouldn’t be going anywhere—unless it was on foot or with skis.
But there is something splendid and even magical about this kind of enforced slowing down.  I called my young son to find out how he had fared and whether he had been able to get to work.  He drives a modest sedan, lives in the city but has to commute north to Everett for his job.  “Not too bad,” he said.  “You just have to take it easy and not go over sixty on the freeway.”  That being the speed limit anyway, I had to assume the freeway was clear—though reports on the news seemed to show otherwise.  As for my daughter, she and her family were at the epicenter of the storm, but since her husband is a teacher, this became a week of unplanned vacation, a time to slow down and breathe deeply.  There is much to appreciate when we can take the time to notice more.  I wasn’t concerned about my other son, knowing he would thoroughly enjoy any opportunity to put his Jeep Rubicon through some demanding road testing. 
View from my office window as I write

For Joe and me, this has been a time for reflection, coming finally to the understanding that we are really quite retired.  It’s been especially hard for Joe, because he’d really rather work—if there could be work to be had.  It’s not his idea to be put on the shelf while his colleagues continue to be creatively involved with clients.  And, truth be told, I also enjoy the stimulation of doing the kind of work that we have done together for so many years.  But it is what it is and we have no clients, so we accept our retirement and enjoy these times of quiet appreciation for the life that God has given us.
Meyer Lemons...almost ready

Baby lemon, still growing
Dried Dill silhouetted against snowy scene
Snow on the skylights...snow out the window, still coming down

I’ve been taking a lot of pictures, trying for a different perspective to capture the essence of what this week has been like.  Today it rained as the temperature went from below 30 to nearly 40 degrees.  Where we had snowbound streets, we now have mounds of gray slush that are quickly turning to rivers in the streets and all the parking lots.  Definitely not as picturesque! Joe and I ventured out, but are happy to be home again, ready for another lovely fire in the fireplace this evening.

1 comment:

  1. Sounds wonderful, Sallyanne. Last week, we had a bit of snow down here (Albany/Corvallis, Oregon) but lots of rain and snow-melt in the hills caused flooding. It was quite dramatic for awhile. Now it's all back to calm. I wish hubby and I were retired as you and yours are but I guess I shouldn't hurry things along. They're going fast enough. :) Glad your kids were okay too.