the endless winter

My hope that Spring would arrive March 1st, as it always does by meteorological metrics, has been cruelly crushed by the bane of my existence: reality. We haven’t had any more snow since late February, but some of the 1.5 meter (5 feet) accumulation of it is still around, slowly melting and yielding to the first flowers of the year. It looks like the vernal equinox next Monday will again be the more accurate harbinger of the sweetest season.

Much more often than not, it doesn’t start thawing out here until mid-month anyway. But this winter arrived much earlier than usual. It barreled in November 6th, dropping 10 cm (4 inches) of the white stuff and temps below freezing. Since then we’ve only gotten to 10 degrees Celsius (50 F.) twice. Monday we had a pelting rain that finally liberated our driveway, and today, it hit a glorious 11 briefly until a hail squall reminded us to not get cocky.

Because last winter was almost as rough as this one, we bought a used snowmobile in case our truck and car got snowbound. As the seller loaded it on the truck, the throttle stuck and it shattered the rear window, narrowly missing our two dogs. I’m glad they were with us, though. When they heard the snowmobile blasting their way, they jumped out, forcing me backwards as I reached for some rope. Had they not, I would have taken a face full of “safety” glass.

We stored the homicidal vehicle until we could find a place to repair it, then had to wait weeks until it could get parts. It’s been fixed for weeks, but we couldn’t get the truck down our driveway until yesterday. It’s home now, still in the bed of the truck until we figure out the safest way to unload it. And now that it’s here, we’ll probably have to wait until next winter to use it. I can’t wait.

Yes, I can.