I looked out the window in the full moon the other night and half expected to see wolves streaking across the snow fields.
I know it’s been more than 100 years since the last known wolf was killed in the South, in the Great Smoky Mountains in 1905, but maybe we’re not living in the South any more.
Our part of Virginia has totaled more than twice the average snowfall so far. And it’s only the first week of February.
I contend Mother Nature got her winter orders for V states confused, and sent Vermont’s snowy winter to Virginia.
There has to be some explanation more fanciful than El Nino, and global warming’s effects.
I used to like snow. Well, really, I still do: watching fluffy flakes fall while I’m snugly inside with a cup of hot chocolate, wrapped in the zebra-striped Snuggie my sweet husband, Bill, got me for my birthday.
Or snows that amount to about 3 inches and melt off the roads right away.
Tuesday I truly enjoyed seeing individual flakes settle on my dark purple coat. There were needle-shaped snow bits, and interspersed, absolutely perfect snowflake-shaped ones, the first I’ve really seen up close this season.
I like watching our 14-year-old Shitzu-mix dog, Savannah, bounce up and down like a rabbit through the snow, harkening back to her puppy days.
But snow-packed-into ice on the hills I go over to get home is a different story. My husband was stuck on the hill in our late son Rex’s Hyundai and blocking the road by the time I got there Monday afternoon. Neighbors Carlton Janney and Dane Burch scraped enough ice off for him to creep up the grade after about 15 minutes.
Tuesday night is his late night because he teaches an income tax class at National College. Even though every other college in the region canceled night classes, National didn’t. Since I’m the one with the 4-wheel drive, as I write this I’m waiting at the office for Bill to carpool home. I’ve already tried Wildwood Road and couldn’t even turn into our private road because of the ice so I had to roll backwards and approach from the other direction.
I’m sure the rest of it is doable. But if not, I’ll park the Durango and Bill and I will at least be able to walk up that icy hill together. You know the saying, when share your life with somebody you love, you have half the troubles and twice as much happiness.