When it snowed again yesterday morning I decided to walk the mile to the library for our weekly Write Group support meeting. I figured walking would be better than driving on new fallen snow and I’d also avoid pulling into a poorly plowed space to park.
|Our beautifully landscaped terrace|
This was about our fifth snowfall (but who’s counting?) since the new year. We’ve had other snowy winters, but in every one that I remember, except the winter of ’92-93, the snow melted between snow falls. This year it hasn’t and there is no place to put the snow. Consequently snow barriers a yard thick and equally high line all of our curbs reducing most streets to one and a half lanes. When there are cars parked, they protrude into the middle of the street; opposing traffic must take turns slaloming down the block.
|View from the bridge|
My walk includes an old cement
bridge over the railroad and a
section of the Second River—
there enclosed within “the Glen”—always picturesque, especially
in the snow, and Glenfield Park.
At the time I went out there was
no traffic on those streets. Nature forced humanity to revert to simpler ways. I saw only two other walkers. We waved to each other as we walked in the street facing traffic, like on a rural road, because you could get to the semi-shoveled walkways only by scrambling over yard-high mounds at the corners.
Passing some beautiful Victorian homes, I was certain the scene would have looked little different when they were newly built. I imagined and wished for a horse-drawn sleigh to drive out from one of them. In Time and Again, a book by Jack Finney that I’ve several times reread, the protagonist goes back to an earlier time by imagining himself in that time just after a snow fall. But unfortunately, that was not to happen during my walk; a motorized Parcel Post Truck coming down Woodland Ave. quickly destroyed the illusion of times past.
I trudged on, occasionally on sidewalks, but moving back to the street whenever homeowners had neglected their shoveling, passing newer homes and apartment houses that could never take me back in time.