AFTER THE BLIZZARD

SATURDAY

Twenty below last night. But the snow, so light and fluffy, is practically up to our windowsills and insulates the house foundations beautifully so no pipes froze. The only problem Petunia has was that her two shaky little old min pins can’t go outside to do their duty. If they get too cold, they stop moving and they would be three feet down in the fluff, so how could she get out there and rescue them? In fact, she might go down into the feathers herself and never be seen again! She tried to convince them they should use some old rugs. Mixed success.

I ventured out to the post office and fell for the first time this winter. I usually fall three times, so two to go. I need to put the crampons back on my boots. The most treacherous footing in town is around the post office because it gets so much traffic. The snow is soon polished to a patina slicker than ice. The bright side is that people are always around, so when I went over flat on my back -- no stars, but maybe a exploding moon or two -- two younger women rushed over to put me back on my feet, find my hat, brush me off and ask how many fingers they had. They even found the exact spot where I slipped and pronounced it wicked and found the spot where I hit my head. They snapped my coat closed, though that’s not easy because I have so many layers of fleece under it. No one has done this since I was a little kid! I would really have liked to lie on my back a little longer, rebooting my internal computer. But there was no damage.

Low temps are not the problem today. We’re at zero and rising to an estimated ten or so. The problem is the enormous amount of snow. The usual blade scraper is ineffective. A big loader is working its way around town, first clearing people who have to get to work. Old ladies can wait. I’ll dig a little now and then all day. Tomorrow is supposed to be Chinook winds again, which means this snow will all be rearranged and more solid.

At the post office I asked an old rancher what was the last year he remembered that was like this. It was thirty years ago. I remember 1972-73, which changed my life. Teachers who lived in East Glacier were snowed into their classrooms (no kids, thank God!) for ten days until a big rotary plow was brought in by the railroad. I rode back and forth with another teacher so my little van was buried in the snow, to be dug out by a backhoe about Easter. But I could see that a single woman of uncertain driving skill and modest means should either live in Browning or give up Montana. Since Bob had already acquired another woman, I decided the thing to do was leave. I didn’t get back for a decade.

So now I’m challenging my ability to hang on here if the weather is going to be like this. Of course, the weather is never the same two years in a row. The old rancher in the post office predictably said that global warming was beneath contempt-- the weather has always cycled and he had stories from his father and grandfather to prove it. He might be right. Any true scientist would say all theories are provisional. But others have said “global warming” is a misnomer -- what more atmospheric heat means ultimately is driving those cycles harder and faster, not an even temperature rise.

I went on to Curry’s to get more catfood, stepping carefully. The questions there were about the new digital TV broadcasting. We don’t know whether the old analog repeater on Belgian Hill is being replaced with a new digital one. So many people have “pizza pan” satellite TV now. Marie’s mother is 88 and finds a digital TV or the little adaptive box on top of her familiar analog TV both too hard to manage. She lives alone and is fond of Canadian TV, which isn’t on cable. Innovations are tough for old folks who manage by staying on old familiar paths. Valier is one of the places a person can get old without getting run down by traffic, but once in a while the world catches up with the edges of us. Or the weather.

SUNDAY

This morning I woke to the sound of machinery. On my street are two churches, both being cleared out by front-end loaders, backhoes, and an all-terrain vehicle with a blade on the front. Then they cleared my driveway as well! Hurrah! This town has its heroes, young family men, church-goers, guys who do stuff. The economy is hard on them as they scramble to keep the kids fed and supplied, but they are not a lost breed.

It’s twenty degrees and rising but don’t be deceived. The newspaper didn’t come yet (it’s 9AM) which means the highways are blowing shut. A quick check at the Montana road map: www.mdt.mt.gov/travinfo/map/mtmap_frame.html shows lots of the fuschia-colored dots that mean ground blizzards making drifts and stealing visibility, one of the most dangerous of conditions because it varies all the time and takes the driver by surprise. It’s as though the land rises up and puts a big soft paw over your windshield, pushing you into the ditch.

I’m tying back the ancient quilts I use for curtains this time of year because the sky is clear and the light floods down, rebounds from the snow, makes diamonds everywhere. Snow protects the underground seeds and rhizomes for next year’s crop as well as the rolled up bodies of those pesky ground squirrels who will claim a share. It’s only a month now until they are up running on the snow in a frenzied mating event, planting their own seeds.

But we should stay in the “now” of the seasons, packing Christmas away, beginning to fertilize the house plants, keeping a close eye on the larder and plotting the next trip to the county seat thirty miles away. This is a place that teaches both patience and planning.

You know, those guys on their various snow-plowing machines looked like they were having a lot of fun!