Good Neighbors

It's not often around here that we get the kind of snow we had Sunday, and that's a good thing. While the community we live in pays for a plow to clear the circular road around the complex and shovelers to do the sidewalks, residents are responsible for digging out their own cars. With no assigned parking, things can get ugly quickly if someone leaves the space they spent time and energy clearing, only to return and find it taken.

Having lived here for decades, it seems like we've seen a lot of mini-dramas unfold over winter parking, but we've seen a lot of neighborly gestures, too. Naturally, in a community of 186 condos, there has been a lot of turnover in residents over that time, and I'm struck by the markedly different vibes from storm to storm. 

Some years have found everyone out together, shoveling out all the cars on our end. Other years we have witnessed people throwing their snow right in front of a car that hasn't been cleared off yet, doubling the work for that other resident. One recent change I've noticed is that at least two of the young men who live nearby have dug out their neighbors, for a price. These guys in their 20s, both of whom live with their moms, will only lend a hand if they are paid.

This year, too, I've noticed another trend. 🤨 Anecdotally, as I look out my window and see which neighbors are helping the community, it's all been middle-aged ladies, like us, carrying one small shovel of snow at a time to make room for others.

Mystery Storm

We weren't sure what to expect from the much-hyped impending snowstorm. Unlike many winter events around here, this time temperatures were predicted to stay well below freezing throughout the storm and into the next week. And yet, because of warmer air aloft, the snow was also forecast to turn to a wintry mix before ending, which would refreeze on the ground. 

The result was a shower of tiny ice pellets that lasted throughout the day, leaving several inches of granular, almost sand-like snow that partially filled in footsteps as they were left. This unusual precipitation was pretty, but too cold to pack, hard to walk in, and heavy in the shovel. It was fun to slide down the hill on, though. 

Whatever it is? Is still coming down out there, a little wetter now, with temps in the high 20s slated to fall to the teens after midnight. So who even knows what twe'll see in the morning?

The Big Dig

There is no question that we have just had an epic snow storm, but athough our condo association contractors plowed and shoveled, it turns out that they were not very smart about where they put the snow. Parking is always at a premium here, and residents are responsible for shoveling out their own cars, so it isn't too long after that last flake has fallen that all manner of space markers begin to appear. "Just put a lawn chair in your space," one of my neighbors advised me long ago, "it'll be fine." 

But it isn't fine to drive home at the end of a long day and not be able to park, and that was what was going to happen since at least 20% of our available Parkin had been used to pile snow by both plows and residents who did not want to both shovel and walk. At this end of the complex, most of our neighbors had chosen to weather the storm elsewhere, and although we were dug out by noon yesterday, the fear of losing our spaces was real, especially with five uncleared spaces next to us. 

And so it was that our project for the day today was to shovel out a few extra spaces, including that six foot mountain of snow that was blocking them in. "The sun is shining and we have all day," I told Heidi, and although there was a crust of ice, the snow was light. 

"Think how much harder it will be as it melts and refreezes," we told each other as we scooped shovel after shovel and trudged over to the small hill by our house. After a while a couple of neighbors joined in, and in a little under 90 minutes we had our spaces cleared. 

Some extra added benefit? Peace of mind. I had an appointment to get some stitches removed this afternoon, and when we came home there was a spot for us. They are all filled right now, though, so hopefully a few other some bodies will pay it forward.

Snowed In

Today was our friend and neighbor Lauren's birthday. Before the weather reports turned dire, some friends were planning on driving up from North Carolina, and she had reservations at a couple of nice places for drinks and dinner with a club or two after.

"Can your friends come next weekend?" we asked her when she was totally bumming out earlier in the week. "Because if so? We'll make dinner for you on Saturday. That way you can have two birthdays!"

She was appreciative and disappointed at the same time, but you can't fight history! One of the top five snowstorms of all time was bearing down upon us, so what could we do??

Have an awesome dinner party, that's what! We invited the neighbors, made some cute little cupcakes, cooked a nice meal, shoveled the walk, built a fire in the fireplace, and popped some champagne.

Cabin fever? What cabin fever?

Making Do

That's me: lying on the floor in front of the fire listening to an audiobook while bread bakes in the oven, soup simmers on the stove, and snow falls steadily outside.

We'll See

A steady stream of colleagues made their way to my classroom door starting on Tuesday, when news of the big storm potentially coming began to spread. "What do you think?' they wanted to know.

I'm not sure how I got to be the snow seer, but I kind of like it. 

'No school Friday," I predicted confidently. "And if it's what they're saying it could be? I'll see you in February!"

You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

We ran into our three-and-a-half year old neighbor, Savannah, her mom, and one-year-old brother as they were on their way back from some junior sledding on one of the small hills around here. Savannah's mittens were wet and crusted with snow, and you could see that there was some snow packed down into the tops of her boots, too. (Remember how much that stings?) Her cheeks were red, and her nose was running.

Seeing her reminded me of how uncomfortable the snow can be when you're little. You don't really have the body awareness to stay warm and dry, and the cold, wet yuckiness inevitably sneaks up on you when you're playing. That and having to pee when you're wearing a coat over a one-piece snowsuit are real drawbacks to fully enjoying the snow when you're a kid.

We stood chatting with her mom when Savannah interrupted the conversation. "Excuse me," she said, so politely that we all turned to listen. "Do you want to know why my nose is stuffy?"

Of course we did. "Because I was crying before," she informed us. "My mommy closed me in my room, because I wouldn't follow the directions to get dressed, and I cried." If she was looking for shock or condemnation of her mother, she didn't get it from us. But we did nod sympathetically, I more so than the others.

"My gosh, Savannah, the same thing happened to me when I was little!" I told her. "My mom wouldn't let me come out of my room until I got dressed, and I cried and cried because I really, really didn't want to put my clothes on all by myself." To this day, I can still see the other kids in the neighborhood playing in our court, as I tearfully watched them out the window. The sunshine seemed so warm and bright, and their shouts and laughter so merry.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I got dressed," I shrugged. She obviously doesn't know my mother. "How about you?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "Me, too." She paused and looked pointedly at her mother. "But I didn't like it."

Snow Report

We took a walk around the neighborhood today. There is a lot of snow out there, so much so that plows are not enough: bulldozers and diggers are on the job moving mini-mountains from place to place. That's part of the problem with digging out around here, it's so rare that we get this amount of snow that there's nowhere to put it. A neighbor of ours patiently moved the 4x6x2 foot pile of snow from the front of her car to the back with a dustpan. She turned down offers of help with a cheery, "No thanks! I'm planning on being here for a while."

Blue skies and sunshine made it feel more like Vail or St. Moritz than our home town. We walked about in our parkas and sunglasses on trails of packed powder. Despite the sun, it stayed cold today, so there was very little melting, and the snow is still awfully pretty-- it was doing that glittery, glistening thing, not at all slushy and dirty in any but the most well-traveled of places.

It seems like the major victims of this storm were pine trees. Fast growing, they are a favorite of landscapers to provide a quick screen and some evergreen shade, but their soft wood makes them vulnerable to heavy snow, and we saw many of them bowed and broken.

Such weather only comes our way every 7 years or so, and since school is already canceled for tomorrow and another storm is on the way, I plan to enjoy it while it lasts.

Another Snow Day

The storm yesterday reminded me of another snowstorm a couple of years ago. In January of 2008, I traveled with a friend and colleague to Maine to spend a week observing at Nancie Atwell's school, The Center for Teaching and Learning. We arrived in Edgecomb on Sunday night, just ahead of a major Nor'easter, but we weren't concerned. My friend had had the foresight to rent a four wheel drive vehicle, and plus, this was Maine, we shrugged, surely they knew how to handle whatever snow there would be.

The next morning my cell phone rang. "This is Nancie Atwell," the voice on the line said. "Is this Tracey?" After getting over the initial shock of actually having Nancie Atwell herself call me, I realized that she was telling me that school was canceled that day because of the weather. She arranged to meet us for a couple of hours that morning anyway to go over the rest of the week. I couldn't decide if I was disappointed, relieved, or exultant... the joy of a Snow Day is a powerful thing.

At 10 AM when we left CTL, after having met Nancie and seen her school, the snow was falling fast. Faced with an unexpected free day, we set off in the storm in search of a late breakfast. The roads were terrible, but my friend navigated them admirably, and before too long we found ourselves on a nearly deserted Main Street in Damariscotta. A restaurant called The Breakfast Place seemed just right, and we parked in front and made our way inside. A cheerful group of rather grizzly Mainers was leaving as we came in, and those gentleman gave us a thumbs up as they passed.

Inside, we were the only customers, and the waitress led us to a table in the back that looked out over the water. Lobster boats bobbed on anchor buoys in the snow. I ordered a poached egg and crab cake on a homemade English muffin with coffee. There were Trivial Pursuit cards on the table, and we took turns quizzing each other until our breakfast arrived. The food was good, and our conversation wandered to books; my friend recounted the entire plot of Walk Two Moons right up until the end. There she paused. "Do you want to know what happens?" she asked, and I nodded, completely charmed by the story, by the setting, by the food, and by the company.

Back at our hotel, we spent the rest of our day talking about Atwell and her school and about teaching and teaching writing as the snow piled up and up. I didn't feel trapped at all-- the promise of the week ahead seemed as boundless as the expanse of drifts outside the sliding glass door and as long as the icicles that formed drip by drip on the overhang that sheltered it. And it was a good week, a great week, really, but in the end, my favorite part of it was the snow day.