As I write this, we’ve just come through what the weather folks labeled a “generational” winter storm. Depending on where you were in North America, you were affected one way or another. Where I am, it was a down-right scary blizzard. We were admonished to stay home, only it was Christmas and people had places to be. I actually had a few places to be during that week, but I decided it was not worth the risk to end up frozen in a ditch somewhere.
Where I live, the winds shriek across farm fields and create drifts almost out of nothing. You can be driving along and the next thing you know, you’ve hit a patch of black ice. You *instinctively* slam on the brakes, spin out, and your pickup truck ends up in the ditch facing the wrong way.
It seems to always be the pickups. Small sedans are in second place.
My odds of ending up in a ditch are quite low. I own a Subaru Forester and drive like an old person because I am, technically, an old person. However, even with those odds, I won’t leave the house when the weather outside is frightful. Excessive worry about one’s personal safety is another upshot of being an old person.
Besides, I have enough to deal with right here at home. Five years ago, I relinquished the luxury of city living, where I took the bus to work and my snow removal duties were quite manageable.
But I digress.
As I work through my fourth winter here at Russell’s Rustic Retreat, I plan to award myself a degree in Rural Winter Survival. I’ve earned it. Here are some of the classes I’ve completed:
EQUIPMENT 101:
Freshman year: FAIL
Because I moved in during the month of March, I managed to avoid winter, with the notable exception of the spring storm that dumped eight inches on the property two days before the movers were due to arrive. My “technical” first winter was about a quarter of the way through when I woke up on a Saturday morning with a keen awareness that I was chilly. Like REALLY chilly. A quick check of the thermostat revealed a cool 56 degrees Fahrenheit.
Uh oh.
Turns out, the propane tank can’t tell me when it’s empty. And leaving for work in the dark and returning home in the dark didn’t leave much in the way of time or incentive to check the tank. Did I even know how to check the tank? I don’t recall, but now I will never forget. Yes, the propane man will come out on a Saturday, but it’s going to cost you. How much? That too I have forgotten, but now I tell myself it’s a thousand dollars. So far, it’s done the trick and I’m squarely on top of it.
Then there was the time I killed my snow blower. Inadvertently and unintentionally, of course. You see, I did not know that if I didn’t clear residual snow out of the auger, there was a good chance it would freeze in there. Then, when I started it up and kept trying to run the auger without trying to figure out the problem, the belt would break.
Thankfully, I have an equipment guy. His name is Jeremy. Every spring, he takes my riding mower to his shop, tunes it up and puts on a new blade, because every summer I end up bending the blade. The first year he brought it back he admonished me gently: “it’s not a go-cart…”
Anyway, after I was able to confirm that I had not, in fact, killed the snow blower, but only temporarily disabled it, Jeremy came and replaced the belt. And that’s when I learned about clearing it out after every session.
FINAL GRADE: B+
HOUSE MOUSE (MUS MUSCULUS) 101:
Freshman year: FAIL
Oh my goodness. There are so many of them. Did you know the gestational period for a house mouse is 20 days? They love to build nests in all sorts of inopportune places. I will not go into detail, but I’ve been forced into a warrior mentality with respect to these tiny menaces. I’ve had to learn how to set traps properly and which ones provide the quickest, most painless execution. I cannot care about mice, even though I care about all of the wildlife at the RRR.
FINAL GRADE: A- because I am in denial.
WILD BIRD MANAGEMENT 101
Here’s where I’ve excelled. I hadn’t been in the new place a month before I signed up for a weekend workshop on providing habitat for wild birds. The previous owners left the place looking like a golf course, which horrified me. That first summer, I paid a lot of money for a professional company to install a native garden. The thing with native plants is, they take awhile to get themselves established. This past summer rewarded me with a lovely native prairie garden.
Now, every time there’s a fresh coat of snow, I delight in being able to see signs of wildlife which, during the rest of the year, are concealed from me. The most recent snowfall brought proof that the birds highly approve of native garden plants.
FINAL GRADE: A+
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I loved this!
Love your stories. Keep them coming.