Sunday night into Monday, we had a tremendous amount of snowfall, made worse by winds that created deep drifts. There was so much, a big barn down the road collapsed presumably from the weight of the snow on the roof, causing quite a disaster for the farmers there. Thankfully, most of the cows were rescued, and nobody was hurt.
The fellow who plows me out came and did what he could, but because the snow was so deep and so heavy, he couldn't get the studio driveway cleared except for the first 10 feet. The driveway is a straight shot from the road and about 700 feet long, I should mention. (Can that be right? Sounds like a lot. But I think it's correct.) I've been trudging through stuff that's up to my knees. Ugh. (Note to self: think how good for me all this exercise is.)
With the rain we had yesterday, the deep snow became deep snush (snow + slush = snush). I've mentioned how I hate wet feet, right? So yesterday morning I donned my layers and layers of clothing and plastic bags inside my boots, trying to keep dry, and headed out. Along came a friendly neighbor who stopped to chat. (Of COURSE someone would come along when I'm out looking like a psychotic bag lady!) He asked how I liked the current state of affairs on our township's roads. We talked about how it is nigh unto impossible to get there from here if you're trying to head west. The main road has been closed awaiting repair (maybe until October?!?), and the alternate routes are an absolute mess from all the rain and heavy truck traffic.
I explained how I don't go out much, so it's not as big a problem for me as it is for the folks in the area who have to get to work in the main town near here. I told him how the trek up to the studio was a chore for me. He came up with a novel idea! He suggested that because the snow is so wet and heavy, it is good packing snow. I should go to the top of the driveway (from the road, uphill all the way), and make a snowball. Then start it rolling down. It would pick up all the snow and carry it away. Only one problem: it would probably cross the road and wipe out the house across at the bottom of the hill.
It was a mental image that kept me chuckling all the sloppy wet-and-getting-wetter day.