BLIZZARD

Sunday

We are expecting a huge blizzard tonight and all day tomorrow. I have charged up my ipad and my phone, afraid the electricity will go out. Right now, it is thirty-one degrees but it feels like eighteen with the wind. My fear of the coming storm was temporarily suspended this morning, when I woke up. All the bells in town rang for half an hour. It is George Washington's birthday. That cheered me. I shopped on the last good day we had, so I have plenty to eat. I also have stocked up on books. However, I am scared. Nothing this bad has happened to me since I retired here, seven winters ago.

At noon the bells ring again for George Washington's birthday. They sound a "dong" and then it echoes. The noise does not fade before the next "dong" sounds. It is magnificent and continues for a half hour, again.

I layered up and got my trash barrel and recycling container from under the back steps and put them in my garage. That way, I can reach them whenever they come to pick up the trash again. I took a walk and did not think it was too cold out. I wore my hood up because there were flakes of snow floating and the sky was overcast. Ominous. There were people out and I stuck to walking in the middle of the streets where it is actually dry and shows some asphalt.

Back inside, I've read all my newspapers. Checked emails. I texted with my daughter, who is still grieving the break-up with her boyfriend. I wish I lived closer. She is a six hour drive away by car and also gearing up for this massive storm.

The sun has gone down and there is a foreboding of the snow coming. The winter Olympics have kept me distracted. I am most concerned about losing power. If the lights can stay on and the electric heat keeps me warm, I will be grateful.

It is not snowing yet, and the bells are ringing a third time for George Washington's birthday. They are loud enough to hear through the double storm windows, though it sounds like a hum inside. I push out the storm door that opens to the deck to hear the bells clearly. There are definitely two bells tolling. One is a "dong" with the echo and then second, higher "ding" that is louder. It is truly something to treasure.

I still have a foot of snow on my deck. The snow was up to the wrought iron table top, three weeks ago when we got twenty-one inches. It has melted to the seat of the six chairs, that surround the table.

Monday

It is twelve thirty in the morning and not much snow, yet. The wind is roaring, though. That's what scares me. If we lose power, the overly litigious and carefully worded spokespeople from the utiliy company -- whom we do not entirely rely on here -- said it could be five days, FIVE DAYS some could be without power during this storm. But that was on the television, with all of Massachusetts listening. I am encouraged that no snow has fallen here, yet.

At seven thirty, I wake. I still have lights! Heat! But the wind is bellowing. I slept with earplugs, and oh, the wind is fierce. I cannot see out my windows. Every one, I have nine of them, is clouded with snow. Where the screen - which covers the glass - is facing the weather, in the kitchen storm door, I can see that we have not accumulated much snow, so far. I can probably push the storm door out, the snow is not too far up the door, yet. It might have accumulated six or eight inches on the path that has been cleared on my deck from several previous snowfalls. But the snow will fall all day, so that will change. Because the storm is raging with clouds of snow, the windows are almost completely covered in an opaque white layer that makes my rooms dark. I need light if I want to read.

The only person with whom I am communicating is my daughter. Others have been warned that I need to save the batteries in my iphone. I will call after the storm. The wind continues to howl, and I am probably wishfully thinking that the tone is slightly less than the bellowing I heard, earlier. But I could be wrong.

So long as I have heat and the lights work, I am ok. This is a serene and rare experience and I try to take advantage of it by reading Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea. Decades ago, I was unable to get through the fishing and boating lingo, that I did not understand. But now, I've I reached the exciting part of the novel. Santiago is too far out to sea, and sharks are approaching. I am unable to put the novel down.

The first time I've heard a plow clearing my street is at noon. And an hour after the plow, the folks who have a contract to shovel my deck's path, clear it. I could hear "bumping" noises and looked out my kitchen door's window. There was a dark jacket filling what I could see through the glass and screen clouded with snow.

It is quieter. I hear nothing, though it is still snowing and the path cleared almost three hours ago on my deck is all filled in, again. But it is not so deep that I cannot walk on it. For now, I do not hear the wind, but I can't count on that being the end of it. It is not supposed to subside until tomorrow. Sigh. At least I still have power. And my daughter is weathering the storm, albeit with others, not the boyfriend.

I had to clear my deck path again at nine, tonight, when the snow finally stopped. I took out the trash/recycling. That's why I put the trash barrel and the recycling container in my garage. I had to shovel -- I am guessing a new foot and a half stack of snow -- from the front of my garage door before I could open it. Then, I went out again to check on the trash barrel because I cannot see it from my windows and a plow had gone by again a couple of times to get one swipe and then another to widen the path on our street. My trash barrel had fallen over. The lid was off and snow had gotten inside, but I righted it, dumped out the snow and found the lid. I shook off most of the snow from the lid and replaced it. The air was cold, clear. The snow along the driveway where I had to walk was up to the top of my Ugg boots, the only ones I have that are tall. The snow is so high, especially at our driveway entrance, I doubt I'll get out tomorrow. Maybe the next day? But it's supposed to snow again then. This is why I hate winter. It is cold, confining. A lot of work and storms like this one are scary.

Tuesday

At one thirty this morning, the contactors who plow our driveway made their very noisy removal of our driveway's snow. I watched the contractors from my bedroom window, unable to sleep because of the noise. Because the plows that have periodically cleared our street have left huge mounds of snow on both sides, they had to use a snowblower. The bank of snow at the end of our driveway was too big. They could not use a plow. At least the driveway is cleared and I could probably get out to mail the birthday gifts for my grandnephew and grandniece in San Francisco.

Sunny and not too cold today, I went out to retrieve the trash barrel and then the recycling bin when the second truck came by to collect it. I only wore my flannel shirt over three layers. No coat!

My neighbor called. She stayed at her daughter's, several towns west, during the storm and drove back here, cautioning me not to try to drive right now, that the roads are awful. She drove through Salem and said the main road was ok, but the smaller ones were treacherous! It doesn't even look passable by the high school. I'm glad I did not try to go to the post office.

It's snowing again! It's almost noon, now and the sky is gray, cloudy. But the deck is still clear, there is patchy white, where the salt that the contractors spread, keeps it passable. I am really tired of this. My daughter vacillates between worrying about me, alone in this storm, and whether she will ever fall in love again.

Wednesday

I just drove around the block! I went out to see if, first, the car would start. Good! Then I wanted to know if I could back out of the garage with the banks of plowed snow lining the driveway. Yes! Wonderful! Then, I figured, what the heck, I'd drive down my street, left on Front Street and through Crosby's Marketplace onto Washington Street and then, home. I did it! The dashboard lit a little yellow light with a scary drawing that I interpreted as "driving through snow?" But it disappeared after I drove on. Not a great clearing of the road, but I made it. Halleluia!

Thursday

I drove to the municipal light company to pay my electric bill and to the post office. The roads weren't great. Lots of police signs -- NO PARKING -- because the curbs are piles of snow. I could not see beyond them to enter Atlantic Avenue from Beach Street after I left the post office. It is reported that hundreds of thousands of people are without power, mainly on the Cape and in Rhode Island. They will be without it for days, as predicted. I am relieved that our municipal light company has kept the power on throughout this ordeal.

Friday

From midnight to seven in the morning, the damn dump trucks have been at it. This is the third time this winter that they THUNDER down my street to dump truck full after truck full of snow in the harbor. I wear ear plugs to block out the noise but the house and my bed still shake when they rumble past. Tonight, I think they are also using bulldozers to scoop up the snow banks that line Washington Street. I can hear lots and lots of noise three houses down from me, that is Washington Street. Four houses the other way is the harbor.

It is warmish today. Thirty-three degrees. So the snow is melting. Good!

Saturday

The temperature rose to forty-seven degrees and I texted my daughter the one message I have put off from ever sending. She is still grieving the break-up though they ran into each other accidentally and she is hopeful, again. I told her, "When I was pregnant with you, your father moved to North Carolina and did not tell me. You were seven months old when he called me and told me he had always loved me and that I should have known that he would come back. You know the rest, which is why I think that whether Ned comes back or not does not mean he won't break your heart again."

I went to the Barnacle with my neighbor and a mutual friend, tonight. We walked. The air was crisp, cold, but refreshing. Or maybe it was my mood. We picked our way along the center of the plowed street at the end of my block. It took about eight minutes to reach the Barnacle and we did not encounter one vehicle. But the bar, when we entered, was packed. We stood together; my neighbor sipped a glass of Chardonnay, our mutual friend drank a Sam Adams Boston Lager and I ordered ginger beer with rum over ice and a slice of lime, a Dark N' Stormy. We were able to grab stools, together at the bar, before we ordered another round. Cheers!

Caryn Coyle is an editor at the literary journal, Loch Raven Review and her work has appeared in more than four dozen publications. She has won awards for her work from the Maryland Writer's Association, The New Millennium, Delmarva Review, the Missouri Writer’s Guild, and Pennsylvania's Hidden River Arts. She lives in Massachusetts.