Well, somehow I managed to survive this winter’s first “Snowpacalypse.” (The first of many, if TV meteorologists have anything to say about it.)
Despite what the talking heads on the morning news were yammering on about, I didn’t freeze to death beneath the permafrost, timber wolves did not appear in the yard to devour my cats, and Snærr, the Norse god of lousy weather, didn’t pop in for a second coming and plunge the world into 100 years of icy darkness.
I did what Michiganders have been doing since we stole the state from its original owners: I dug out the driveway and got on with my life.
The tires on the Toyota were not what they were a few years ago, though, and I did manage to drive off the road at one point. Judging by the length of time it took the tow truck to arrive, I wasn’t the only one.
I now have the new tires I’ve been meaning to get since July, so bring it on, Snærr, I’m ready.
That said, I will admit I’m learning there are two winters every year — city winter and country winter.
Having grown up in big cities, I’m familiar with city winter. The soot-smuged snow, slush-filled potholes, frequent low speed fender-benders. It’s all well-travelled territory.
What I’m not used to is country winter.
I moved to Lori’s little house on the prairie back in June, so this is my first winter here. We live on land that only a decade ago was somebody’s corn field. Then developers came, excavated a rutted path they laughingly called a “road,” and built a handful of ranch style homes along either side.
The middle of nowhere looks like Manhattan by comparison. This past summer, I felt like a character in a Zane Grey western, a feeling reinforced by the horses living next door. And the tumbleweeds.
Yes, there are tumbleweeds out here! I have no idea where they come from, but if I leave the garage door open they fill the place in a matter of hours. Crazy.
At any rate, based on what I’ve seen of winter so far, it’s going to be tough to survive out here on the rim of the state’s rugged hinterland. Just this first dusting has piled drifts up to the windows on the northwest side of the house. The tractor, which I was planning to store in the shed, will now instead spend the winter beneath a tarp out back. The shed is snowed shut and it’s just getting deeper.
Worst of all, the satellite TV and internet — our tenuous link with civilization — has all but shut down. It didn’t work all that well even during the halcyon days of summer, but with the coming of the snow … let’s just say the Amish have better technology.
Still, I am descended from hardy pioneer stock. I’ll survive my first country winter somehow; no matter what Norse gods and TV weather people send my way.
Catch Mike Taylor’s Reality Check radio program every weekday at 5:30 p.m. on WGLM, m106.3 on your FM dial.
mtaylor325@gmail.com
(616) 548-8273
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