December 6, 2003 Snow - From an email to Mike.
I just went outside to clear the snow off my kayak. I covered it with tarps and plastic bags before the worst of the storm hit. So the wood was protected, but I was worried about the weight and thought I'd sweep it clear.
It's half past one in the morning. New Brunswick is totally blanketed in a thick layer of snow. We're in between two storms - the one that hit the mid-Atlantic got us all day today, and tomorrow we're supposed to get another one. Last I heard, we've had a blizzard warning. But right now it's not snowing, just misting tiny snow crystals. The sounds are all muffled, and everything is sparkling in the streetlights and gleaming with golden yellow and brown light. Does that makes any sense, for it to be brown when it's all covered with snow? My boat had a foot of snow on it. There was hardly any place to sweep the snow to, but I'm glad I cleared it off. It was so beautiful that I wandered to the
front of the house, and brushed off my landlady's car just to have an excuse to stay outside longer. A few people were crunching up and down the street, and there were cars going by, but it felt silent. From my deck - on the second floor, surrounded by trees and overlooking backyards - the wind made a low roar blowing snow off the roofs. The voices of two women calling to each other on the next block were magnified in the silence. I waded through snow on the deck, shoving great mounds of it over the edge so I could lean on the railing.
For some reason it made me think of you. And it made me wonder what it would be like to be in this snow if I were living in my van instead of going back into my bright warm apartment. I'm sensibly planning to head south in the van, but it would be a pity not to be in a place like this from time to time.
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