Shake the Trees

Okay. Remember all those nice things I just said about winter??

I take ‘em all back. Evidently, the end result of throwing even the most offhand compliment winter’s way is a whopping 18” of the white stuff, with a 2-day loss of electricity as a cosmic cherry on top.


Just when I thought the storm was over…just when you’d think 15” was enough to make anyone cry uncle…


…the storm picked up in intensity. White-out conditions made it next to impossible to see much further than across the street…


It’s an uber-heavy snow…the kind that makes for excellent snowmen…and lots of achy-breaky biceps and backs.


It also makes for lots of downed trees and a loss of power. We handled the first eight hours like troopers. We stoked the fire, read a little…played numerous games of whatever and reminded each other every ten minutes that the power would come back any minute….

By 8pm, firewood was getting low (as was my cell phone battery), the house was getting cold and any novelty we may have felt over “roughing it” had completely and utterly worn itself out. There was nothing cozy anymore about the candlelit rooms…it was just making it impossible to see which way to replace the dying batteries in the flashlight.

The cavalry (AKA my sister and nieces) arrived in their SUV around 9-ish….after numerous text messages back and forth revealed that she was without phone, cable and internet…but she had the most important thing: she had power.

The next day (at my sister's), we awoke to many, many snow-laden trees…some at almost a 90-degree angle. In my borrowed snowsuit, we trudged outside to clean up in the wake of this major storm. I would stand under a tree and vigorously shake…and would immediately get clocked with heavy clumps of slushy snow.

After several hours of tree-shaking and broken-limb dragging, we started getting a little delirious. We’d tried to cut down several cracked branches with a table saw. (It did not work.) I kept falling down…and getting back up was getting harder and harder….especially when the deep snow would summarily grab hold of my boot and refuse to let go. Add to that, I began to notice that every time we’d drag a huge, gnarly branch towards our pile of downed limbs, I’d somehow wind up in the middle…with my feet tangled up in the branches. Down I’d go.

My sister decided we should make snow angels in one area of the pristine snow. She planted her feet…held her arms out to the side and just….fell backward. Then she frantically swished her arms and legs up and down as I critiqued her ability to push the heavy snow. Then I'd attempt to haul her to standing without ruining her perfect angel.

When my turn came, I found that I couldn’t fall straight back…I'd hit butt-first and then lie down. The end result looked more like a bumblebee and my sister remarked that I had some serious trust issues.

Eventually, a neighbor walked over and suggested that he drop by with his chainsaw and help us out. We gratefully accepted...and by the end of the day, our arms and legs felt like rubber bands…a fact that I mimed several times by dramatically waving my arms and legs like a puppet…adding a bouncy, twangy sound for emphasis.

Two days after we lost power, we returned home once again. I can now safely say that I have gotten up close and personal with Old Man Winter…and I do believe that he’s a grumpy, miserable old fart.

But that’s really no surprise to anyone…now, is it?