Thursday, 10 December 2009

The Perfect Storm

At my age, the perfect storm is beautiful, exciting and does not leave me stranded or exhausted.

This was the perfect storm.  It had a violent monochromatic beauty with no terrible repercussions.

Before the storm, a thin skin of slate grey ice had formed on the lake near the shoreline.  When I woke up on Wednesday the skin was several feet wide and pure white.

All day long the wind howled in the treetops sending Kenya scuttling in under my desk, swirling snow in fierce whorls that scudded past my windows.  It churned up the lake water and sent it rushing from one end of the lake to the other.  This was no ordinary wind.  It didn't seem to have a specific source or purpose but rather changed direction frequently, and paused for breath often.

The ice skin was torn away from the shore and shredded into fragments that were scattered over the lake creating islands shaped like crescent moons and boomerangs.

The boats which had, I thought, been carefully stored for winter, the canoe over the kayak, a chair leaning against both holding them against the railing, were now scattered all over the deck.  I made my careful way down the 22 stairs to the lake, pushing snow aside with each step I took.  The wind tore at my clothing as I  turned both boats over again, but did not attempt to pile them neatly this time.    Kenya, who is usually first onto the deck, hung back.

The quietest place during the storm was in the woods.  Kenya and I made the trek to the mailboxes twice.  Sixty feet above our heads, the wind shrieked as it buffeted groaning tree branches.  On the road we saw several dead branches that had been ripped from the trees: new sticks for Kenya to play with, but even so, there was a kind of peace as we walked in that white arched passage between the open parking area and Pike Lake Road.  I felt completely safe.  Kenya was likely more realistic as she cringed and cast baleful glances up into the treetops.  But then Kenya is always the one who barks and maintains watch while I relax and enjoy my hermitage safe in the knowledge that she is here, that the only people who venture in here are friends, and that our home is secure.

I shoveled the 39 steps once yesterday, and Leonard plowed the road once and then came in for coffee and banana bread.  Today, the finest possible dusting of snow is sifting down, and I will take my shovel and go out to play in the snow in a few minutes.

I hope your storms was as perfect as ours if you were experiencing your first storm of the season.

1 comment:

Oma said...

Not quite as perfect as reported. By the time I shoveled the 39 steps and the car I had chest pains. My cough was worse and coming from aching lungs.