Snow Daze

 

Sue looks out at last night's snowfall from our bed

Our second night together we enjoyed a spacious apartment Airbnb down the road from where our home is under construction. As we slept in warmth and silence, soft snow continued to fall outside our window. In the late-December morning light, we crawl from under the bed covers to peer out the window at the smooth, white landscape. It was fun to see another seven-inches had covered everything.

***

 

 

Heavy snow overnight as we slept at our Airbnb

 

 

We again rise latish (we're on vacation) in the frigid morning to dress, venturing outside with heavy gloves to uncover the powder-shrouded 4Runner. Our Airbnb hostess has already graciously shoveled the snow from the driveway. 

 

"What do you want to do today in all of this snow?" Is my question.

 

"First, I think we should go back and take another look at our house. It is so beautiful out on our land with all of this fresh snow covering the fields and trees," is her answer.

 

Sue walking up the 1/4 mile drive

I agree. We make fresh tracks with my off-road tires as we back out of the Airbnb, sloshing and sliding back to the interstate highway for a short trip on cleared pavement before we exit onto the county road.

 

 I again park at the gate, choosing out of caution, to walk up the long driveway to the house rather than drive a quarter mile in deep, virgin snow and risk having to dig myself out.

 

 

House with slick and icy floors

 

 

 

 

 

 

We returned the second day to check on things. Mistake. 

 

Stepping inside the ice-glazed interior of the new home's mud room, my boots skated out from under me and I fell with a sharp thwack on my back and a hollow thud on my head. My head bounced twice and my hips slammed hard.

 

 

 

Snow maiden in the front yard

 

 

Critter tracks at the Pilchuck House

 

 

 

Standing outside at the base of the entry steps, Sue hears my heavy fall onto the icy floor decking. "Are you alright?" she calls.

 

"No," I groan. I dislike having to answer the obvious.  

 

At the moment of my swift plunge to supine pain, Sue was holding her eyeglasses in her hand. The unpleasant sound of my head thump brought an involuntary contraction of her hands, resulting in the unpleasant crushing sound of the frames she was holding. I was a spectacle to behold while I assessed whether my bones were in pieces, while the spectacles that she was holding were now in pieces. I writhed in conscious pain while my wife watched and was happy to hear that I responded audibly and coherently to her previous asinine question.

 

As I cautiously climbed back to my feet, she was experiencing great relief; later saying that once she heard me hit the deck hard, she had immediate visions of a life-changing disaster. She envisioned a brain-trauma disabled husband, a split head, bleeding on the frozen floor a quarter of a mile from the car left behind a locked gate, having to drag my unconscious body through deep snow and without working eyeglasses.   

 

After a moment, I realized there was no damage to my head. I can speculate that it is because my head is so very hard, or else my head is kind of soft. Either way, we were thankful that the slip did not result in tragedy for her visit.

 

I limped back out of the house with a tender posterior, feeling that my chakras and my pride were dinged up a bit and perhaps misaligned. Could have been worse. The lower spine bruise did take about 18 days to heal. 

 

If the previous day was an allusion to the 1994 novel and 1999 film, Snow Falling on Cedars; I declared this day: 'Snow Country for Old Men,' an allusion to the 2008 Academy Award-winning film for Best Picture. No more interior tours in these low temperatures for me. 

 

I was in one piece and my brains were still in their original packaging. Quit while you are a head. I called it a day and retired to our Airbnb, ran a hot bath, only to find merely tepid waters. You can't always get what you want; so Sue cooked us a fine microwave frozen dinner and I opened a bottle of good French wine; but sometimes you get what you need.

 

A toast to disaster avoided and the promise of a better tomorrow!