Sunday, February 16, 2014

breaking ice

Our snowblower died in the driveway right next to where and our mailbox sits broken, bent, and destroyed by a snow plow, its door carried off and away somewhere late the previous night.  It will slowly fall to the ground as the snow pile that is supporting it melts away.  

It was the layer of ice that had fallen in the middle of the most recent storm and then the heavy wet snow which had fallen on top of it that finally did the snowblower in.  That's what warrantees are for, and a repair person will be visiting us later today, just hours before we are to receive another predicted eight inches of snow.

When the snowblower died, Jonathan was attempting to clear the driveway enough so he could get to work.  He hadn't received any messages yet that his school was closed for the day.  Thus ensued some frantic shoveling and a request that I come help him.  So I suited up and headed toward the door, when I thought to check the website of his school to make sure that it had not closed.

Turns out, it had closed.  Two hours earlier.  It was just that the winter storm closing alert system we were using was down for some reason.  Perhaps some ice in their works as well.  There was a lot of breakage around us.

Everything else here fared rather well.

Beautifully even.

There is a lot of beauty in how the ice forms.  And, Julia's class, while studying Russia last week, watched this video, about making music in the ice of Lake Baikal.  Watch this, it is remarkable.

We are going to spend the school vacation week enjoying the winter, and the snow, and even remembering to see the beauty and hidden music in the ice.  Likely, we will break more things, too.

And we will enjoy the warmth of inside as well.  We are all bundled up for it.


(I seriously could make a series based on weird things I find abandoned around the house that I cannot explain.)

Have a wonderful week.

Epilogue: The repairman has just left.  He fixed the snowblower.  The problem?  It appears that Jonathan had run over the mailbox door where it was buried in the snow after it had been severed by the snow plow.  You can't make this stuff up.

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