Wrinkly Bits
A Blog by Gail Cushman
I always wondered what it would be like to live in the inside an igloo, and now I know. My world has turned white. Everything, as far as I can see, is white. The snow gods dumped about 18 inches of snow on Columbus, give or take 6 inches, and I’m feeling a little housebound. The mountains, trees, bird feeders, hot tub, and everything that is within eyeshot is white. We have a blanket of fog, too, so it is sort of like being inside of an igloo. White! White! White!
Montana is known for its cold and snow and ice and it came true this week. Yesterday the temperature was about six degrees, and today we are having a heat wave, it has skyrocketed to 15. That might be an exaggeration, but not much of one.
The Cowboy has a tractor with a snow-plow attached and yesterday he spent the day plowing our two driveways which are on a hill. One is very steep, at about 11%, and short and the other is less steep and long, maybe 3%. But still a good incline. We have to choose carefully and can be a tough decision.
Cody goes in and out of the house and he is white, too. He’s normally blonde, but the snow latches onto his coat and he turns into a short, fat snow dog. He likes to sleep by the stove, and before long, the floor is dripping with remnants of his snow coat.
Wait! Hold that thought! Darcy just drove in. She’s in her white, four-wheel drive F-150 pickup, which blends right into the snow banks and oops, she chose the wrong driveway the short and steep one. She’s sliding around, and has a lot of good dance moves. First, she spins, then she twists, followed by a do-si-do, then starts all over again. She’s a great driver, but the dance floor is slick and slippery. And white. Yikes, Darcy, don’t take out the fence!
She’s in luck! Cowboy to the rescue. “Darcy’s in trouble,” he shouted. He yanked on his snow boots, then a vest, followed by a coat, followed by coveralls, double thick mittens, stocking cap and then a Russian trapper hat. Just so you know, he keeps all stocking caps and his Russian trapper hat, as well as his double-thickness mittens in the gun vault. He doesn’t want me to get any ideas about borrowing them, I think.
He’s out the door in a flash, everything is working and he’s down the hill, giving signals, like go that way or slow down. Darcy’s backing down and this time she chooses the correct driveway. Good job, Darcy! She’s a real Montanan, and knows how to deal with this igloo business.
