Snow, Snow, Snow

We are teaching here at private school today despite the fact that schools across the state are still closed due to about two feet of snow.  We get out June 3rd, so I'm not complaining; snow day be damned.  But I will complain about so much snow!  And, yes, it is beautiful.  I took a walk around Hardwick Center last night when the flakes were finally coming down lazily compared to the driving white earlier in the day. It was lovely last night, if unearthly, because we're so far out in the middle of nowhere and even the center of town is ghostly and black, that big flag on the common ripping around angrily in the wind, and the lights of only an occasional car climbing up the long, long hills through incredible darkness to finally reach the town center.

Getting cars in and out of the backyard parking area of our B&B staff housing is not fun.  My Subaru is a stead, I've gotta say, and you just shovel a little in front of it and it'll climb out several inches of snow like it's a dry August day. The young teachers aren't paranoid Yankees like I am, so neither of them backed in, and they were nose down on an incline to boot, so it might be a while before they get their cars out of there.  I watched them a little from my bathroom this morning while they struggled away in the cold darkness, with no success, digging into a rut with their wheels deeper and deeper.  After i got my new short haircut all squished and curled and finished my coffee, I went out and did a little shoveling in front of my car, and off we all went in my valiant Subaru. I feel like such a guy because I'd done everything right, such as backing in, the whole rocking process, just the way Dad taught me.  I even made a swaggering remark about how they will be needing sand to throw under their wheels, but unfortunately,  I didn't have any.  It's a wonder I didn't! I'm like Ward Bond at the front of Wagon Train, pulling wooden wheels out of ruts with sheer muscle.

I am kind of sick of this whole macho woman thing, something I developed in the 60s, with a Dad who wanted a son instead of a daughter.  Sometimes I get so tired; I want a heroic guy around who swaggers instead.  Where did those guys go, anyway?  There used to be men who pulled up out of nowhere, car lights flashing,  to help damsels in distress.  Now they are all home, scared to get wet.  They huddle in the window, like my mom used to do, and say discouraging things like, "You'll never get out of that snowbank."  And then you do.