The first major storm of the season.
How grateful we are for fresh snow.
The parched land is begging for moisture.
The temp'rature’s at four below.
Well, four below freezing and holding.
A jacket is all that I need,
To dig out the front and the back doors
And let the dogs out with great speed.
The wind has been shrieking for days now.
The drifts pile high as my knees.
The storms doors are rendered immobile
Because of the drifts and the freeze.
“Oh, please, leave the ranch,” my kids told me,
“You’re safer near us in the town.
The neighbor will watch you and call us.
We’ll help you whenever you’re down.”
I used to go out in the blizzards,
Chipped ice in the troughs in the barns,
Hauled hay to the mares and the yearlings.
My kids call that, “Mama’s old yarns.”
I live really close to a city.
There’s no more young horses to tend.
A small tidy house and three collies,
An acre to love and defend.
“Your life now will be so much better,”
My daughter informed me with glee.
“And if something dreadful should happen,
I’ll move you right in here with me.”
My son said he’d check on me daily.
“You’ll tire of me, just you wait.”
They reeled me in, hook, line and sucker,
By using the grandkids as bait.
I’m close to the docs when I need them,
Appointment at 12:10 today.
I need to dig out just to get there.
I better start shov’ling away.
Garage door lifts up with a protest.
The ice at the bottom lets go.
And armed with a light plastic shovel,
I stare at two feet of hard snow.
It’s not gonna melt if I stand here.
I knock down a path for the truck.
I need to cut through the large snow drift,
Get moving so I won’t get stuck.
I study the run to the roadway
And watch as a snow plow goes by.
It leaves me a wall of snow boulders,
Not much, just a foot or two high.
The dogs can’t run loose in the city.
They want to go out to the back.
I sure would be happy to let them.
The back door will open a crack.
Two skinny dogs squeeze through and sink in,
Accuse me with their big brown eyes.
I can’t shovel out from that doorway.
The big dog just sits there and cries.
I need a way into the back yard.
The backdoor is too tight a squeeze.
I take down a screen in a window,
And climb out as quick as I please.
The wind howls right into my bedroom.
I make my way to the back door.
The drift disappears as I shovel.
Big dog leaves a mess on the floor.
I clean up the floor in the kitchen,
The broken vase up in my room.
I put back the screen in the window,
And hang up the dustpan and broom.
My kids have been home since the weekend.
The snow keeps them huddled inside.
But I’m not a weak city dweller.
I feel my heart swelling with pride.
My neighbor? He watches me shovel,
Dig out the front steps and storm door.
Yells out, “You should wait ’til it’s 80.
The weather girl’s forecasting more.”