ANOTHER DAY IN THE COUNTRY:   All snowed in

© Another Day in the Country

Well, we did have snow didn’t we? On Wednesday, last week, it was hard to imagine with the sun shining and 50 degree weather. I went to the grocery store.

“Stocking up?” the clerk asked and when I looked bewildered, she said, “for the coming snow?”

I laughed. Furthest thing from my mind. I have mom’s pantry, after all, which she always kept stocked up and five years after she’s gone I carry on the tradition.

It seemed that everyone was talking about the coming snow, weathermen showing wave after wave of dark blue flooding over Kansas with the deepest color, “a bulls eye” they called it, just to the west of us here in Ramona.

When the snow did start falling it seemed it would never last, falling slowly, almost like a mist, gently — more a skiff than a blizzard.

“Over 12 inches expected,” everyone was saying, “maybe more!”

How could this be? Twelve inches is a lot of snow.

Early Thursday morning, 4 o’clock, I woke up and looked out my door to check the snow — more had fallen, how much it was difficult to tell in the dark. By the time the sun was up, it was snowing in earnest.

My cousin called from Colorado.

“You snowed in?” he wanted to know. “Maybe,” I answered, “but it isn’t like the last storm when there was so much ice. We did decide against venturing out to Abilene to exercise.”

He laughed.

After his call, I decided I would get the yardstick and measure this snowfall. How much did we really have? More than we’d gotten for several years, I knew. Fourteen inches on my front side walk and it was pretty level as far as my eye could see. Everything was quiet, still, pristine. Not a footprint of anything to mar this perfect white blanket of snow. There wasn’t even any wind, amazing in Kansas — maybe just a little breeze.

There wasn’t a single tire track on the road past my house until early afternoon. Must have been at least one over on 4th Street because Kathy was at the Post Office doing business according to my sister — who walked over, later in the morning.

At noon, Jess called and said, “I made basil vegetable soup,” a favorite of mine, “come over for lunch. Better wear tall boots,” she admonished.

Marshmallow had made it from her house to mine through the snow, so I thought, “I’ll follow his trail — cat’s always go for the most shallow route.”

I lost his trail in a hurry — he’d been walking on top of the snow. It is serious exercise in its own right to break trail through this much snow! We ate our soup, chatted, “I got a new movie. You want to watch one with me?” We did. This being snowbound was fun!

Everything was cared for — I’d filled the bird feeder just before the snow, made sure the chickens had plenty of food and water, topped off the pond, put the car in the garage, unhooked the hose — I was ready to be snowed in! And then we got even more snow!

My sidewalk has not been cleared. I started, but that is really deep, heavy snow. I stopped. Thanks to the porch, I can get my front door open. I’ll just wade through, if I have to, I reason. My driveway is undriveable, clogged even more when they cleared a path down the main streets. The town is still very quiet. I like the quiet.

The cats have come in from the back porch where they sought haven — Skeeter has a heating pad to lay on out there. Marshmallow joined her, only because he couldn’t get the back porch door open with all the snow in front of it — he likes his independence. When I let the cats in the house, this morning, they began to play hide and seek — Skeeter’s favorite game. Her next favorite game is marbles.

There’s a marble game on an end table, TTT got it for his birthday once. There’s 32 marbles in that game and not a single one is on the game board. Skeeter has knocked them all onto the floor so that she can play her version of marbles — she bats them around on the linoleum. She loves the sound they make — lots more fun than on the rug. At the moment, there is not a marble to be seen anywhere. They have all been knocked into some unattainable place. Under, behind, stuck, gone. I laugh at her antics, grateful for her company.

Being snowed in is sort of fun. I made cherry cobbler for supper, delicious, remembering the last time we were snowed in and Ramona had no electricity.

And now it’s another day in the country. Still, snowed in. I feel a little like “Little House on the Prairie” pioneering but in their stories they were really snowed in, not just pretend! I could get out (I think) if I really needed to.

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