Day 3 - 24 -- Isolating snow

It was sunny today and outside my windows very little snow fell from the edge of the system that set snowfall records along the eastern seaboard. Other areas of the province got snow, but mainly the southern end and along the Atlantic shore. It was a productive day indoors for me. I cooked a number of items, including the oat bars discussed here yesterday. They are overnighting in the fridge to be cut into bars tomorrow. Several meals of dinner leftovers rest in the deep freeze for those days when energy or time to prepare dinner just isn't present. Several cleaning tasks were completed this afternoon, too. A few items on the infamous 'to do' remain untouched, but that means there are several somethings to keep me busy in the coming days <grin>.

I feel for those in the US who are facing enormous clean up to get themselves outside, into the street and then somewhere down the road. One friend noted their home was about to join the "snow-blower symphony" -- I loved that metaphor. Here, snow blowers only work on some snowfalls, since we get much heavy wet snow that clogs some machines. The newer 3-stroke engines claim to be able to throw slush, ice and water, but they are huge and cumbersome to move around. Without a garage, it would be difficult to store here since the shed is still a fair slog through deep snow from the house. Thus, I am still doing it old school with a shovel. <g>

Walking and driving after a major snow storm accentuates the isolation of being 'snowed in'. Huge piles of snow along the roadways can make seeing oncoming traffic difficult when turning into a street. It also means those driving down the street may not see  you either -- until you are in the intersection. Walking is much the same. All crosswalks aren't cleared at first. So, one walks through the shoulder high piles that block the view of the street until finally an opening at an intersection appears. Sometimes, there just isn't an opening, which requires climbing up and over a large pile of ice and snow. The worst is finding an opening and getting partway across the street only to notice that the opening expected on the opposite side is not there. I've learned to look for a crossing with both openings to save me from slipping back into traffic while scaling the mountain on the other side. The isolation feeling comes from walking in what in essence is a maze. You can't see the way to the cheese, but you know it is there somewhere. Neither can you always see how many others are scurrying to find the same prize you are hunting. It is a weird sensation indeed.

The song for tonight is from a Broadway musical and it just seemed to fit my ponderings. <smile>  Enjoy!

It's a Maze -- from Secret Garden