We awoke this morning to more snow than we've seen in a few winter seasons. Or maybe it just seemed that way. David shoveled last night, but you couldn't tell.
I pulled on my boots (thank God for my foresight in buying high snowmobile boots), but the snow was too thick to just step outside. I took a broom and swept the snow away from the door, off the landing, and off the steps.
I grabbed one of our 3 snow shovels and began to plow my way down the sidewalk. I don't mind shoveling fresh snow because its not too heavy. But shovelful after shovelful takes its toll and my arm began to ache. Our dear neighbor, Paul, had mercifully snowblowed one side of the driveway. Then I thought of Martha's world, and a scene came into my mind.
Matthew has planned a rescue of the women and children, but they are very far away in southern Alberta. He wakes up to this. And even though his men have cleared the main road leading to their compound, there is not much anyone can do about miles of highways clogged in snow. Trucks will be useless, even ones with snowblades attached to the front. Only a snowmobile or snowshoes will do.
Matthew and his men are in for quite an adventure. Either that, or they must hunker down and wait for the spring melt. Not a good option.
Who is responsible for this mess? Global warming? My ass. This is a new ice age, or at least a snow age. I can give thanks though--my world is not Martha's world. My house is warm, I can have a cup of tea from my Keurig brewer in under 30 seconds, and my city will plow the roadways fairly soon. Poor Martha. I can only imagine... and so I do... and write some more on Book TWO. In my cozy house with a running furnace and hot showers. I am so blessed.
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My back deck this morning!