Tag: winter

Just wait five minutes — it’ll change.

Are you from a place like that?

I’m not. I’ve lived in those places, but that’s not here. 

Here, once weather arrives, it stays. I mean staaayyys. For months…. The weather does not alter — unless you count the 10º temperature changes, say from 13º to 23º F or from -15º to -25º F, or you head out of work to another layer of fresh snow. Never mind these such drastic changes, it’s still winter.

The other three seasons are another matter. The delightfully warm, fresh summer (with a week or so on either side for spring and autumn) is the reward residents earn through the white cold. By this time of year (April) the sunlight has returned a little more each day and eventually so does a little heat too. Summer is enticingly on its way. The only thing the snow has to do is slowly melt.

Sometimes, though, Mother Nature throws out a surprise.

For example, this past April Fools’ Day… No, nothing bizarre or surprising actually happened on April 1st, but it should have. Only two days later, the sky began to snow (see entry “Keeping the White Dress”). The snow-removal crew had cleared out all of the bus lanes in the district’s 32 schools by the time this story took place, but had not had time to plow out parking lots.

I pulled into the staff lot late that morning and saw that someone had taken my spot. Grr! Who took my spot?! 

A little clarification: My spot isn’t actually mine. There is no sign bearing anybody’s name anywhere in the lot. This spot just happens to be the furthest from the entrance — a great excuse to get a few more steps in each day, and the ideal place to park a brand-new vehicle. Ten years after purchase, parking there has become a habit, and the “step” rationalization has become more logical, and a good reason to share if people ask about my parking habits. What most don’t recognize because I’ve generally arrived before they do, is that “my” spot has generally been plowed to some degree because it is the closest to the designated snow dump.

This of course was the motivating factor for anyone to park in my spot, especially today. 

I hesitated before pulling into the adjacent, snowy, spot. 

What I should do, I considered, is dig it out before I park…or flatten the snow a bit… I had already missed the quiet time before most employees arrive and, feeling a bit crunched for time, I nosed in over the snow. A pickup truck has a higher undercarriage than most other vehicles after all: I should be fine, I assured myself. If any snow is too high, the truck will sheer off the top layer, essentially self-flattening it anyway. It’ll be alright.

It would not be until after 5 o’clock that evening that I would think about the snow refreezing into hard ice after the heat from the engine had melted said top layer…

About ten minutes later Mr. X came, unapologetic, to my classroom door to apologize for taking my semi-plowed spot. We chatted and laughed, and I agreed that his tiny vehicle was at a disadvantage compared to mine. 

“I’m sure it will be okay,” I concurred.

After a wearisome day, I had forgotten about the parking lot and I was just looking forward to home. I raised my eyebrows in slight surprise to see my truck was the only one in the parking lot. I had half-suspected that my supervisor might still be there, but it was not unusual that she had made it out a little before me. It had been a loooooong day —

—and the jerk and hold I felt when I started backing up was not close to anything I desired at that moment. I drove forward a little and reversed. Another jerk to a stop, and the truck held that position, despite me pressing the accelerator. Sigh.

I climbed down from the cab and grabbed the snow brush. I had already stowed the shovel in the shed since I had thought snowfall had ceased for the year, and had not pulled it back out when the foot-and-a-half started to fall over the weekend. So, the only usable tool I had was the squeegee end of the snow brush.

I laid on my side on the ground and began to pull the snow out from under the chassis. I could not see from one tire to the opposite one, or even all the way around the one by my shoulder. Over and over I pulled snow from under the vehicle. I flipped the brush over and used the ice scraper to cut at the hardened crust. I cursed Mr. X, his choice to take my spot, him not even have the decency to find out if I needed help digging out, and people’s selfishness in general.

Wiggling down to the rear tire, I rued the fact that my supervisor had left before me and growled that she had not deigned either to see if I had needed help! I gouged out snow over and over, periodically twirling the brush to the ice scraper side, and occasionally changing arms to give each a rest.

Of course, I fully understood why my colleague had pulled into that last spot. After all, I would have myself if I had been on time (and, I admitted, I would have privately reveled in the fact that it had less snow than any of the others). I appreciated Mr. X honestly coming to say it was he who had taken the spot, and, naturally, since his day had ended two hours before mine, I certainly did not really expect him to stay to see if I could back out! It just felt good to blame someone else for a while as I rolled on the ground and worked my arms.

I pushed myself to my knees, brushed off the snow, and stomped to the other side of the truck. The snow was deeper here. I gritted my teeth together and scraped at the snow.

There was no need for my supervisor to have packed up slowly, like I had today, just so that our departure times could synchronize. I cannot speak for her, but some days I want to discuss the day, and other days I don’t want to see anyone, much less talk. Today had been that kind of day. Plus, I did not begrudge her the longer trip she had to get home, especially on treacherously snowy roads like these! I took a deep breath and readjusted my body. The last bit of acknowledgedly misplaced rancor drew out of me with the next scape of the snow brush.

Dig, dig, dig. The motion was actually quite pleasant. I was getting quality arm exercise and seeing immediate progress for the work I was putting in, not always sometimes a teacher can detect. Very fulfilling.

Gasp. The light at the end of the tunnel! Hope elated. I see it!

If I looked at the correct angle from one wheel to the opposite one, I could now see a glow from the other side under the truck. Yay!

It was six o’clock and I was still digging. An orange pickup drove slowly through the lot, and directly by me. The driver’s unneighborliness pricked me. I took a deep breath. This judginess was as fallacious as my earlier complaints. The driver may not have seen me lying in the depression next to the tires. He or she may not have had tools to help, or perhaps there were people in the truck who were immunocompromised and could not risk to help during a pandemic, despite vaccinations. I focused on my task.

Dig, dig, dig.

Finally I could see satisfactorily enough through to the opposite side of the truck, and I had broken down the snow crust near the lowest metal base frame. I stood and brushed off what snow I could, shivered once from the cold, and climbed into the cab. I took a short prayful breath after the engine started, then put the gears in reverse. I had to complete a couple of back-and-forths but — success! I grinned and turned the wheel away from the parking spot. 

I had a fleeting vindictive fantasy of piling all of the snow I had dug out back on to the spot, plus adding more from neighboring spots to trap Mr. X the next day, but I scoffed at myself. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s so mean. The petty part of me born from hunger and weariness whispered that this would take more of my time and effort anyway. Plus, since there were no designated spots, how I could I know who would park there tomorrow… 

I frowned and pushed the puerility into the far back of my amygdala where it should stay. 

I drove into my driveway at 7:30 p.m., perhaps still a little irked at the lost time, but calm now. I decided not to do anything resembling work, but to rest and enjoy a healthy dinner and a tasty cup of tea after changing out of my wet clothes.

A long sigh. A deep breath from a cup of orange and cinnamon. Ah…. 

Everything turned out quite well in the end.

Hmm, this is yummy tea….