I know–long time, no post. I’ve been working on my new novel (Dear Jeannette) and I need to keep focused on that. Anyway, time flies when you’re having fun, which we are having lots of out here at Three Graces Farm. Grey snowy skies and single digit temperatures have kept us in a lot. We’ve been hunkered down. So it’s now time for a winter’s tale.
Once upon a time (yesterday) we ventured out in spite of the weather report, which warned of snowfall (only 1-2 inches) starting late in the afternoon. We were going to a seminar in southern Maryland to hear Sally Fallon, author of Nourishing Traditions and president of the Weston Price Foundation talk about traditional food. (More on this later!) We planned on heading back early enough to beat it, but the delicious lunch and the interesting afternoon session put us behind. Little did we know that the system had moved into western Maryland earlier than expected and it had been snowing heavily all day back home. The roads were iffy starting out, but we were making good progress until we came to a complete stop on the interstate about twenty miles from our house, five miles from our exit. The radio reported numerous problems ahead, cars skidding, accidents, stalls, etc. When we were moving at all, we were literally crawling, the speedometer barely registering any speed at all. Darkness came and the snow kept falling. We considered the possibility that we might be spending the night in the car. There was some cold coffee in our travel mugs left over from the morning and a frozen chicken we’d purchased at the market. Yum.
I considered panicking, but it wasn’t going to do any good, so I resisted. Ted set a good example behind the wheel by calmly claiming every inch we were given without dwelling on our lack of progress. He pointed out how much better off we were than Washington crossing the Delaware. I had to admit –it was true. We listened to XM Radio (Underground Garage and Willie’s Roadhouse), took a phone call or two, talked about the seminar and did some people watching. I tried to imagine how all of these hundreds of folks were handling this, each in their own space–in their car and in their head. If thoughts and emotions were colors you could see, what would the road look like from above? I just had to keep reminding myself that however long it took, we would not be there forever.
And we weren’t. Three and a half hours after hitting the roadblock, we turned off onto our dark, icy exit. The remaining fifteen miles home was no picnic, but we were moving, so we were ecstatic. The whole thing suddenly felt like more of an adventure than a nightmare, and when we did finally pull into our snowy driveway, you’d have thought we’d accomplished a moon landing.
It was so grand to be home that the frozen pipe incident that followed after my hot bath seemed trivial. We got it stopped and there was no real damage done. With thirteen inches of snow on the ground, we were just grateful to be home, dry, and off the interstate–happily ever after! Perspective is a wonderful thing.