If you've never lived in an area that gets a little wintry, you've probably never experienced a snowsquall or a whiteout. I've lived through a couple. Once in a plow truck coming down a very steep and winding road, which is probably 95% responsible for my hair going grey at an early age, and twice while outside minding my own damned business.
Last night at just dark, I finished my barn chores and headed down the driveway to the get the mail at the mailbox across the street. I stopped at the edge of the road to let a vehicle go by, then headed across the road. I was suddenly aware of an intense roaring sound, like a freight train was coming at me. I looked both ways down the road, thinking I was hearing a big town truck plowing, when I was suddenly surrounded by gusting winds and blowing snow. I grabbed the mail and turned to head back to the house, and could barely make out the end of my driveway just a few yards away. I had to struggle to keep myself upright on the snow covered ice that was underfoot while being buffeted by incredible winds. "This is it" I thought. "This is how unsuspecting farmers died in the 1700s...I should have put a rope from the barn to the mailbox so I wouldn't get lost." My mostly rational brain seemingly forgot that I live in a semi-rural neighborhood, not the vast open prairie, and the chances of getting lost in a whiteout were slim-to-none in these parts.
I did make it to the barn and I slipped inside to wait out the squall. My face stung from the force of the snow hitting it, but I was unscathed. After about three minutes the squall petered out, and I went inside to my nice warm house. I think a lot of us forget how much we're at the mercy of nature when we're outside, especially if we're alone. I've had a few instances where my heart got a pretty good workout, either falling or getting a tiny bit lost or accidentally being too close to wildlife. I kind of enjoy that little bit of drama in my otherwise mundane daily existence.
No comments:
Post a Comment