Just drifting along...?

Well, the driveway's been cleared of excess snow for the third time in a week. More snow is in the forecast for several days this week, amounts to be determined. We aren't particularly pleased with this state of affairs but have decided this presents a fortuitous opportunity to read up on why zen buddhists rake sand to create a zen garden. Perhaps, if we train ourselves to meditate before and/or after clearing the driveway of snow, it would help us contemplate the reality of nature. On the other hand, we hope to never turn clearing snow from the driveway into a daily practice, although we could use the days between snow storms to manipulate the snow and snow banks in much the same way that sand is raked and rocks placed. This approach may be more healthy for those of us approaching our dotage than our typical response to frequent snow storms -- we yell, scream and curse a lot, doing an excellent Rumpelstiltskin imitation, if we do say so ourselves.

ripple marks carves in the snow by winds

Photo by J. Harrington

Yesterday's snow and winds presented snow devils, snow snakes and other forms of blowing and drifting snow (who knew?). We had enough sense to defer our mechanized version of snow blowing until this morning, but then had to deal with windchills of -26℉ and toes that got very cold during our two hour session. We're planning on wearing a new and improved pair of Sorel boots or equivalent for next Winter. By then we'll also have a new and improved snow blower. We've reached a stage in life where substituting machine power for our muscle power is wise bordering on essential. After reviewing a video this morning, we leaning toward the idea that a snow blower mounted on the front of the tractor may be more work than it's worth. Life in Minnesota's Winters got a lot easier to take the first time the steering wheel in our vehicle was heated. Maybe the same could be true if the snowblower (mechanical, not wind-driven) also had heated handles. There's something to check out later this year. Meanwhile, we'll try to believe that in less than 8 weeks, about all of this will be gone. We can welcome the return of snowy nights after giving thanks for a bountiful harvest.

snow devils chasing snow snakes

Photo by J. Harrington

Snowy Night

by Mary Oliver

Last night, an owl
in the blue dark
tossed
an indeterminate number
of carefully shaped sounds into
the world, in which,
a quarter of a mile away, I happened
to be standing.
I couldn’t tell
which one it was –
the barred or the great-horned
ship of the air –
it was that distant. But, anyway,
aren’t there moments
that are better than knowing something,
and sweeter? Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness. I suppose
if this were someone else’s story
they would have insisted on knowing
whatever is knowable – would have hurried
over the fields
to name it – the owl, I mean.
But it’s mine, this poem of the night,
and I just stood there, listening and holding out
my hands to the soft glitter
falling through the air. I love this world,
but not for its answers.
And I wish good luck to the owl,
whatever its name –
and I wish great welcome to the snow,
whatever its severe and comfortless
and beautiful meaning.

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