The Snowbound Hermit

My inbox this morning contained two emails: one from a friend postponing her weekend visit because of the impending storm, the other from another friend with advice for preventing serious stroke damage. I include it in case you are ever in a position to use the knowledge.

This is called the STRoke identification process. Bystanders are to ask the victim to:
1. Smile or Stick out her tongue and note whether it is crooked or on one side
2. Talk ... coherently repeat a simple sentence
3. Raise both arms

If she cannot do ANY ONE of these simple tasks, they are to call 911 immediately.

I wrote to thank Nancy, and added the following, "Of course living the life of a hermit and also snowbound ... I likely will simply die and be eaten by whatever dogs I have here ... and Kenya will then get diarrhea because she cannot handle raw meat ... and in the spring there will be a helluva mess to clean up ... if we ever have spring."


Do you know that we have had 350 centimetres of snow already, and that we are expecting 30-50 centimetres in the next 36 hours. We are getting close to the record of 444 centimetres created in the winter of 1970-71.

That was the year I was pregnant with Robbie. We celebrated Valentine's Day by going to dinner with friends in Bells Corners. Opa was babysitting. On the way home we got about five miles from home and could go no further. The VW had bellied up on the snow on the road and our wheels were not touching any solid surface.

We walked up to the nearest farmhouse. My enormous belly kept me buoyed up ... a little like the Volkswagen ... but we managed to make it to their door. We woke the owners, who welcomed us, gave me a nightie and settled us into one of their extra bedrooms. In the morning when the snow plow had been through they skidooed us out to the road.

I cannot get out by car now, and no one can get in. I am truly snowbound. It feels a little different now that I am living alone and sixty-seven. I feel considerably more isolated than I did when I was thirty-one, a baby in my belly, and another three kids, a husband, and my father all living with me. I have neighbours who can get out if I can get to them on snowshoes, and the dogs keep me from feeling too lonely. Also I live in ski country so I guess if I had to call 911 they could get ski patrollers to come in with a stretcher to haul me out.


Lulu and Kenya play together now. It is funny to watch. I can't get photos when they are both on the floor, when Lulu dances on her hind legs and feints and parries with Kenya, but I was able to get several of them playing in my den.

They have begun to share toys.