I should go outside with the camera, but I’m afraid it would freeze. So for right now, imagine my mailbox buried up to its neck in snow, just the box peeking out. One more snowfall and Bernie, our mailguy, will be putting our junk mail into a hollowed-out snow cave in the embankment.
Yesterday I drove past a cemetery, only the tops of the gravestones visible. On the other side of the road was a playground with a foot-high fence. My first thought was, “Oh, that’s odd, to have such a low fence around a playground.” No, oh no. It’s a normal “keep-em-in” sized fence — it’s just being consumed by the snow.
Driving through Angelborough brings to mind what a rat must feel when running through a maze to get the cheese, with towering walls of snow at the street corners and a frisson running up my spine when I decide to risk it all by proceeding into the intersection.
Backing out of my garage right now is a trick. I have to start turning the car before I’ve backed up more than a foot in order to clear the snow that the plow has been unable to push off the driveway. Why? Because there was already a wall of snow at the end of the driveway two snowstorms ago, and it hasn’t gone anywhere.
Today, the DJ on the oldies station said, “The weather report for the rest of the week is easy,” and then let off a frightened scream. Father C told us not to bother coming to Mass on Tuesday (if it’s already snowing) or Wednesday. He said four to seven inches. Someone else said one to two feet.
And as for me? I’m not sure where we’re going to put it.
If you don’t hear from me for the next few days, please come to Angelborough with a shovel. Or maybe a front-end loader.