Perspectives VI

Snow

The Blizzard of 2003 hit yesterday, March 18th.  I spent this morning digging out, but the radio informs me that no one but police, fire and other emergency personnel are to be out on the streets today.

The greater Denver area has been gifted with several feet of heavy wet snow.  Shovel down to the street and you find several inches of slush and water. 

Shoveling snow is one of those tasks that occupies the body but leaves the brain free for reflection.  I’m fortunate in that I didn’t have anywhere I had to be today, so I was able to take my time at the job, and the only frustration I suffered was that the wind and spitting slushy snow made lighting my pipe quite impossible. 

While I was shoveling the front walk, beating a path to the driveway, a sound from the gray, glowering sky caught my attention.  I stopped to lean on my shovel for a few minutes as a small flock of ring-billed gulls passed overhead, navigating to some unknown destination to the south of the nearby reservoir. 

There are advantages to being capable of flight.  On this day a major human city was paralyzed by the storm, but the gulls were carrying out business as usual.  They were probably uncomfortable, probably less than pleased with the weather, but they were nonetheless.

Our resident house finches beat a path to our front yard feeder, clearing the show with quick snaps of their heads to get at the finch seed in the tray.  Chattering happily as they ate, they seemed bothered very little.

There’s a lot to be said for leading a simple life.  On the other hand, there’s a lot to be said for being able to get warm when it suits you.

The morning passed as I dug, dug and dug some more.  I managed to get one truck free to move; the other is stuck in the driveway, mired in a six-foot, sopping wet drift.  It’s going to have to stay there for a while. 

Later this afternoon I walked down the road to the gas station for a gallon of milk.  In spite of repeated requests from the city, there were a few people out driving around, but more were walking to pick up whatever they needed.  Wading through puddles of slush, dragging through drifts of heavy, wet snow, sloshing across sidewalks running with icy water wasn’t fun, but there’s a strange sense of victory in successfully braving the elements to get out and take care of business, however trivial.  It’s something very instinctual; perhaps a smaller sign of the same instincts that send me out seeking elk and deer every fall.  The urge to brave the elements, slog through the snow, bring in food for the family; it’s probably one of the most basic instincts.

Of course all the speculation seems kind of silly when the worst I had to put up with was wet socks.

This weekend, the sun should come out, and temperatures will rise into the sixties.  The snow should melt quickly, and in the process return a good helping of moisture to our drought-stricken soil and our impoverished reservoirs.  Frankly we could use a couple more storms like this one.

But perhaps not this week.