Snow

I sat there, wrapped in my heaviest blankets in front of the fire place. My arms wrapped tight to my chest as I shook and shivered, my teeth chattering against each other with the cold. I could barely feel my fingers, my toes already long since numb from the cold. It seemed not to matter that I wore three layers to keep me warm. Nor that I have had a fire going for three hours. The cold found its way into my bones; and as a cancer,  it spread through me.

The storm had moved in fast, a cold front that wasn’t expected. It never snows this hard in Washington. Only four hours ago I had my windows open to let the heat out of my home. But then the clouds rolled in, bringing thunder and lightning forth. To keep them company, snow, wind, ice and cold came with. At first I found joy in this. It was so rare an occasion to have heavy snow. Only then the stack of wood, just three steps from my door, was high.

The snow kept falling though, and the wind kept blowing, and the trees started cracking and groaning. It was not long before I returned inside for fear of one of those large trees that borders my property would fall and either hit me or cut me off from my house. When I got inside I started a fire. Then quickly as I could, I changed into dry clothes and sat before the sole source of heat in my house.

At first I sat happily, my dogs curled up beside me as I read a book. I was at peace. When it came time for my supper, that is when the first pang of annoyance hit. Having recently returned from vacation our pantry, our refrigerator, and our ice chest were lacking of any food. So I returned to the fire hungry. At least I knew that my wife would be returning soon with the kids and the groceries. So it was back to my book.

I wasn’t ten minutes into reading when the phone rang. Setting my book down with a heavy sigh I stood and walked back up stairs to the phone.

“Hello. How may I help you?”

“Hey dad, mum told me to call you to say that we can’t make it up the hill in the storm. So we are just going to stay at your sister’s house for the night.” Upon hearing this I felt the bottom of my stomach drop. I hid the disappointment from my voice though.

“Okay sweetie, the dogs and I will watch the house. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay Dad, I love you, bye.”

“I love you too sweetie.” Even as I hung up the phone I was looking forlornly at my empty kitchen pantry. The only thing there were cans of beans and pumpkin pie mix.

I settled for beans, it wasn’t much but it was something. The day went on. Soon I found myself where I am now. Freezing in front of a heatless fire, steps away from a very diminished stack of firewood. I knew I would have to go to the wood shed in order to get more fuel for the fire soon. In fact unless I went after I put the next load of wood on the fire, then it would go out. I sat there staring into the lazy flames that were licking the wood from the last load I had put on. 

As the heat of those dyeing flames touched my cheeks then dissipated to nothingness before it went deeper. I found myself longing to be back on vacation, or for the weather to be warmer. Mostly I wished that I didn’t have to move from this spot to go out into what I knew to be the far colder part of my property. I knew that the wood shed wasn’t sheltered  from the wind, in fact the trees that lead to it form a prefect chute to speed the wind right to it. 

Then I heard the wind rushing ever faster from outside. A groaning sound came, and then a cracking sound. I listened as one of those magnificent trees on my property collapsed under the strain. Then every light was out but for the erie dancing glow that the fireplace threw upon the walls. I knew that now was as good a time as ever to go get more firewood. Little separated me from the darkness outside. My situation would not get better, only worsen the longer I waited. 

So I stumbled through the dark of my home until I found the drawer in which we kept our torches and head lamps. Grabbing my head lamp I moved for the door. I quickly walked outside grabbed the fire wood and carried it back in. Setting it piece by piece into the fire. Looking through the glass door to the frigid span of land between me and the distant edge of my property, that through the thick falling snow I could not see. Nor could I see the wood shed, even though it was considerably closer.

I pulled my boots back on, my stocking cap down over my ears, and my scarf closer around my neck. Quickly as I could I stepped out of the door, closing it behind me so I could keep out as much of frigid air as I could. I moved as fast as I could for where I knew the shed must be. My headlamp’s bright light barely penetrating through the dark and the heavy falling snow. What little light did make it out illuminated a foreign landscape. Completely alien to me. It had to be two feet deep if not deeper; and the snow refused to stop. 

I held my arms tight about my chest as I trudged on through the cold darkness that had enveloped me from the moment I stepped outside. I could not move fast, for every three steps forward I took two steps back now. The wind buffeted me from my back mostly but would switch to slam into my face. Stinging my cheeks with snow and biting at my face with cold.

It was with great joy that I found the wood shed. Stepping inside gave me a slight relief from the cold outside. As quick as I could I grabbed a pack from the wall and loaded it with as much wood as it could hold. Putting it on my back I could feel the weight. It still wasn’t enough. I grabbed four more pieces to hold in my arms. When I stepped back into the wind chill I though for a moment of staying in the wood shed.

I began my trek back to the house. I moved far slower on my return journey, fighting the wind much harder then before. Then I heard cracking and the sound of branches breaking from the tree line. It landed no more then ten feet from me, showering me in snow and broken twigs. I nearly dropped the branches on the ground from shock. When I got to the tree I knew there would be no going over or under it. Branches, broken or otherwise, stuck out in every direction from the tree. With reluctance I started trudging the opposite direction from which the cracking originated.

While I knew that the end of the tree wasn't far away, it seemed as if I were walking miles just to get around it. To make everything worse I could feel as the cold and wetness of the weather seeped in through my clothing. Finally I made it around the damned tree, and as I did a new gust of bone rattling cold wind slammed into me. Delaying my progress greatly and nearly sending me tumbling into the deep snow. Another cracking and snapping monster of a tree crashed down behind me. I was sent flying forward from the force, I lost the wood that I carried, left with only that in my pack. I didn’t dare trying to gather the fallen wood, knowing that the longer I was outside that the worse my situation would become.

I trudged through the snow hoping beyond anything that I could somehow find warmth inside. Before I even saw my house my headlamp began to flicker. Then the light vanished. I could feel that my hope would not be far behind if I was out here much longer. I stumbled on through the darkness until finally I saw a glow in the distance. I walked for it, I had finally reached my house. I nearly shouted with joy at the sight. 

What joy I had was quickly stamped out as I got close enough to see the door. The door through which I had stared at this dark abyss. The door which kept what little heat I had inside. The door that I had closed so quickly and surely before beginning my arctic voyage. The door that now stood wide open with wet boot prints leading inside.