It’s getting colder now, ten degrees this morning, rising to fifteen by afternoon. Snowflakes drift from a dark sky, and the sun never appeared. I walked to Sandy’s Place so I could hear Katrina say, “Decided to go back to California yet?” She’s been gone since before Thanksgiving and just got back. “No, but I thought you did,” I said, knowing why she was gone, but expecting her back sooner. She recently graduated from University of North Dakota—Grand Forks, and met her boyfriend there. He lives in “The Cities” (Minneapolis and St. Paul). She drives five hours to stay with his parents, unless he is driving here. “I saw you walking yesterday—on the bike trail.” She says. “Yes, I was going to Ranier.” “Wow, I don’t even walk to my car in the morning unless the engine is running and it’s warm.” She’s almost typical I think. Hardly anyone walks very far.Having become a resident and having favorites, I walked to my favorite market over on Highway 11 today. The town lies in a triangle bounded by the river and Highway 11 on the northwest and Highway 53 on the east where I live. The south boundary is generally 17th Street—a good way to cross town. For a person on foot, there’s a wide grassy area along the side. At this stage of snow depth, about ten inches, it makes for safe, easy walking. I’m anxious for a another foot of snow so I can go shopping on skis. My tracks from two days ago are barely visible, mostly covered in new snow, and I see no other tracks. It’s a pleasant two-miles, along field and forest getting to Super-Value Foods, and a good test for my warmer bundling.
On the way home I step in the snow-holes I made coming, now dusted with a new inch. It’s intoxicating to swish along on flat white, only my tracks, just white, step after step. I mean intoxicating in a drunken way, sometimes almost falling because “up” seems a nebulous concept. It must be like vertigo that pilots get when everything looks the same from their cockpit window. Of course, falling on ten inches of snow, underlain with grass, is nothing but silly fun, so different from a fall on ice.
The blue water tank, seen here from the Blue Ox Trail is my beacon. I live just a quarter mile northeast of it and I can see it from almost anywhere in town if the air is clear.
Hello Sharon. You seem invigorated by the cold and snow! I'm glad you are having a snowy adventure and that your clothing is warm enough to keep you comfortable as you trek. Speaking of comfortable, several of your favorite people are nice to be around, even at this distance. I feel like I'm wiping off frost from the window to peer inside the cafe, or reading a chapter in a good book. There isn't any place that congenial around here. My favorite characters are Granny, Katrina, her boss, your landlords, and you, of course. Looking forward to your next missive, Liz
ReplyDeleteDear Liz, I’m glad you like my new friends. Life is a novel, each day a new chapter, and who knows how my characters and me will play out. You too, everyone watching, reading, “wiping frost from the window to peer inside,” all of us are players. Thanks for coming into our book and reading along with me.
ReplyDeleteLiz had a musical magical entrance into our lives... she and I did a symmetrical dance... and so we are both here, sharing a program that Sharon is writing... Does anyone else dress like you there??? If they just jump into their warmed up car and don't walk anywhere... they probably don't look like what we think an alien might look like... please save that outfit for Halloween next year, you would have been the star at Jean and Van's party for sure! I think you need to add a bow, like your last costume had, it softens the look a little. I think you're dressed as a blue water tank really. Definitely a Blue Ox look, yes. I am glad Katrina is back and asking the right questions! We miss you...
ReplyDeleteBlue Ox Trail? Only trails I've ever seen left by an ox were much earthier in hue. Such curious goings on up north.
ReplyDeleteNo, Kathabela, I am the only alien here—flown in from outer civilization and trying to appear local. It doesn’t work. If anybody walked more than fifteen minutes they would surely have to cover their face, especially walking into the wind. My cheeks and nose start hurting after ten minutes and start getting numb after twenty. Maybe a bow will help: I’ll work on it.
ReplyDeleteYes, Steven, oxen are earthy beasts, steady and reliable. I don’t know how they fare in cold and snow. The Blue Ox, however, is a silly creature named Babe, which you can read about at, http://www.americanfolklore.net/folktales/mn3.html I like real oxen better, think I am one in a plodding kind of way.
The dark clouds and the imminent snow on the horizon is beautiful. I love the light at the end of the day -- especially in a place where there is a real winter... You have done it !
ReplyDeleteYay for real winter. I love it!
ReplyDelete