Snowed-in in Portland

The snow in Portland this morning was up to the roofline. Fortunately, my front door opens inward. I was confronted with a wall of snow, and nothing but a stout, metal dustpan to attack it with. It was difficult going, and some of the snow fell back into the house-- but I managed to cut steps in the snow and my dog and I climbed out to see a striking scene!

Only the upper parts of houses and their roofs were visible. All the cars had disappeared! Even a neighbor’s colossal SUV had been erased from existence. I went next door to dig out the elderly woman who lived there. Other neighbors began to appear, popping out of their burrows like prairie dogs.

When we had the elderly woman’s entrance cleared, she appeared in the doorway wearing a heavy coat. She wanted to come outside. We grabbed her arms and lifted her to the lunar surface. It felt like the Dakotas in 1881.

No one was going to work today. No cars. We stood there silently. The dogs laid down in the snow at our feet. The air was stunningly clean, and you could hear the wind clicking the twigs in the bare trees. The sky was an otherworldly shade of gray and silver, and the clouds seemed laden with anticipation. Suddenly, I knew what mattered in life, although I could not articulate it. Yet, I knew. I knew!

And the snow kept coming.