The weather forecast was poor, ice storms along the route home, as we planned our departure from Buffalo today. Then, starting yesterday, even the map app warned us of treacherous conditions along the fastest route. But when I tapped the alternate, which was a mere eleven minutes longer, the app assured us that we would avoid icy weather if we drove that way. And so we set off this morning around ten, I in a jolly mood, eager to follow a novel route.
And my disposition held, even when soft flurries began to brush off the windshield as we rolled southeast; the dusting of snow on the fallow farm fields was beautiful. But when, about an hour down the road, we passed a herd of cows whose backs were blanketed in white, the sight gave me pause. Soon, we were driving through a full-blown winter storm.
The only saving grace was that the road was cold and the snow was dry, sweeping harmlessly off the windshield and across the roadway without accumulation. The temperature climbed slightly as we made our way south, though, and soon it was sleet and frozen rain, layering a half-inch of ice on our car. Miraculously, the road was not slippery, although we did need to chip off the ice from our wiper blades and headlights when we stopped for gas.
Eventually, somewhere in southern Pennsylvania, the sleet subsided to rain, and we continued without further difficulty. The whole way, though, our car was cozy and warm, and traffic was light. We talked and ate Christmas cookies and finished our audiobook as the miles passed by, and soon enough? We were home.
