Winter takes its toll, and I don’t have an e-zpass

We are recovering from the most recent dumping of snow onto our landscape. We didn’t have as much as the metro area some 25 miles south of us, but it was substantial nonetheless. We have a long driveway, and my husband actually enjoys taking the riding lawnmower/snowblower up and down the lane to clear the snow. It takes only about 20 minutes total. I get to sit in the house and watch the huge arc of snow blow across the yard. He is very careful to place the blown snow in the correct place, avoiding big piles of snow and preventing the prevailing winter wind from blowing it back over the driveway. He is a little OCD about these things. Now that the sun is a little closer than it was earlier in the season, we can see a bit of the black driveway pavement where the snow has melted off. It is those little signs of spring which I cling to at this point of the season.

Before this last storm, when the weather had warmed the snow and melted it just a bit, I decided to try to fill the bird feeders. I had some extra time before heading out to work, so I put on the big Wellington boots (in my husband’s size) rather than my dress shoes,  took a brick of suet, and headed out to replace the suet and grab the tube feeders so that I could fill them.

The snow was about knee deep, and had a crusty top to it. I made it about 10 feet before I broke through the snow crust, falling down onto the snow, and bending my arthritic knees into very painful positions. My big boots were thrust down under the snow crust. I could not lift the boots back through, and I was lying/sitting/sprawled on the snow, in pain and near tears. Of course, my husband had already left for work, and our little dog was of no help. I could read the news article as I frantically tried to extricate myself : “Local woman, without cell phone, and dressed in work clothes and no coat ,  freezes to death while stuck in a snowbank while loyal dog stands by”.

To add to my misery, this is the winter potty area for the dog. Although I couldn’t turn over to see what was underneath me, I pictured myself covered in dog poop.  Perfect.

I was finally able to dig out one boot by hand, pulling the snow crust off in order to free it and pull out that foot. I had to push off the snow around the other foot with the heel of the previously freed boot. I was in pain, and did not trust the snow crust again, so I rolled across it back to the steps of the deck, and pulled  myself up to the stairs and was able to get back in the house.  I was cold, soaking wet through to the skin, and barely able to walk.  The birds would have to be on their own.

I have told no one but my husband about this incident. It is too embarrassing. And scary.

In case you are wondering, my husband did get the bird feeders filled by taking a different route across the snow  to them.

I am ready for spring.

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