If you’ve been reminiscing about the good old days, you can stop now. I’m not crazy about this replay. We had a warning last week, when the acolytes built a snowman in the church parking lot while decorating went on inside. That’s one Frosty that won’t run down the street for a good bit.
We won’t get mail any time soon, and that’s ok. I wouldn’t want the carriers out on the road for anything. My prayers are with the linemen, road crews, and those who have livestock to feed, as well as the stock and all the little critters who have to find shelter.
Back when we used to have these old-fashioned winters regularly, we often didn’t get mail for weeks at a stretch. Our two-track trail was mostly impassable, and when we got out at all, it was by a snow road, through various pastures. The mailman would go as far as possible and when he wore out the shovel, he turned around and went back to town, leaving the remainder of the deliveries at the last ranch he got to. Eventually, a neighbor would bring it in a batch, or when the weather moderated, Dad tied a gunny sack on his saddle and rode around to see where the mail had made it to. If he didn’t track it down, he still got a good visit.
Mail was always a big deal. We didn’t have a phone, so news of any kind was welcome, and we were all big readers. Being snowed in with nothing to read was a catastrophe. I’ve been known to read the back of cereal boxes and toothpaste tubes, but I made it to the library to stock up before this blast arrived.
My Montana granddaughter and I have been exchanging cell phone pictures of our drifts. We are easily amused, I guess. I’m sort of sorry for her kids; they won’t get any snow days, because she home schools. She and her daughter got new hairstyles just before the storm. Mom donated 18 inches of hair. She shared those pictures, plus a sunset, and a video of Dad pulling a tooth the old-time way, with a string and doorknob. That was almost as good as Dad’s gunnysack of mail.
The teenagers at the home ranch are keeping care of cattle; their dad got stormed out. This is probably the first old time winter when they have had to take responsibility like that. They made it to the neighbors to check on their adopted grandma, who lives alone and ranches with her daughter. Their mom has been checking in with us by phone.
We are snug by the wood stove and thankful for electricity that has stayed on, a freezer full of home raised meat and garden produce, and plenty of flour to bake bread. Watching the drifts grow by the hour, and walking on top of them when we have to go out. Keeping the lights on because most of our windows are packed full of frozen snow.
No holiday plans at this house. Our tree has a plethora of packages under it because Santa made it this far and turned around, thinking the North Pole was pretty mild in comparison. I don’t have any gunny sacks, and it may be January before we can deliver this bounty, but it’d be too far to carry horseback anyhow.
My Christmas wish for you is that by the time these words reach you there will be puddles everywhere, and no breeze at all.