Sunday 9 December 2007

Winter Greets Me with Fluff, a Whoops and a Bang

Even though it’s only been five winters for me here in Lanark County, I can now tell you with confidence that I am OVER winter.
The beauty of the first snowfall is always something to behold. When that white blanket of fluff comes and wraps up everything in its cold, cottony looking cocoon, there’s something almost magical about it. The way the snow looks like frosting on the branches as well as the perfect, smooth landscape of the surrounding bush It’s easy to get caught up in the magic and forget that snow means winter, which means a whole new set of footwear.
As Peter bravely leaves during the first day of all that snow, I realized that I had forgotten to return a movie we’d rented. I ran up the stairs to catch him before he went out. Too late, so I stepped out on the porch to see Peter brushing snow off the car.
He saw me and came towards me, while I had the movie waving wildly in my hand as if the gesture alone would relay my message. The problem came when as he came towards me in his safe, winter-treaded boots, I stepped one step outside onto the snowy porch in my slick-bottomed Uggs.
This is where the whoops came in. That whoops that hits you when you realize several things at once: Whoops, I forgot, it’s snowing, whoops the porch hasn’t been shovelled yet, and whoops I have zero traction to try and keep me on my feet. And the biggest whoops was upon me as I fruitlessly tried waving my arms around to keep my balance. Taking another ill-advised step, I sealed my fate, as well as my pain.
And then there was the bang, the bang of my ribs, shoulder and hip smacking down on the snowy stairs, knocking the wind and pride right out of me.
Peter came running to help me. I tried to stand on my own and laugh it off, but it hurt. And it hurt more when I realized I couldn’t stand up, not because of injury, but because of my boots. No traction, no stand. So I had to crawl up the stairs on my hands and knees, Peter right behind me. What view he must’ve had. Humilation much?
Embarrassment fled when I tried to stand and take off my boots. My back screamed at me that it was mad as hell and not taking any more. And then I screamed, wondering who had just whacked me in the back with a sledgehammer and a chainsaw. I couldn't believe there was no blood, no entrails. It hurt that much.
Peter had left. He was running late, and had no clue I had just seemingly disconnected the upper half of my body from my lower half.
Twenty minutes later I managed to make it to my bed. Fifteen minutes after that I’d managed to get my boots off. The pain was absolutely unbelievable and I had no idea what I’d done. All I knew is that I couldn’t support my upper body at all, and there was no way I was old enough to experience this crap.
It’s been three days now and I’m well on the way to recovery. I rested and had Peter do just about everything for three days. I have to admit, it was kind of fun to watch Peter run around like a housewife with her head cut off.
But most of all, even though my back will be fine, I am now, more than ever, convinced that snow and Joyce just don’t mix.
See you again in May, when the snow has grown tired of us.