For the past few weeks, much of our lives has been defined, and in some cases, narrowly circumscribed by the fact of snow. Prodigious amounts of it. Drifts upon drifts upon drifts of it. It’s not just that we’ve gotten a lot of snow, it’s that we’ve gotten a lot of snow in a short period of time(three major dumps in 2 weeks), and it’s that the temperature hasn’t gone above freezing more than once since all the snow started. None of this snow has gone anywhere, and, looking at the forecast ahead, it looks like it’s not going anywhere soon either. On our little dead-end private way, I can’t really see anywhere left to put any snow if we did choose to dig out E’s car again. Last time we dug it out, just before the most recent snowfall, we had to carry the snow to a pile across the street, but now even that pile won’t take anymore.
The whole metro Boston area is like this. The T has shut down a couple times for one-day recoveries, and the public works departments are running out of places to move the plowed snow. There’s talk about transporting snow now to Boston Harbor and dumping it there, and there’s talk about how the snowfall just before the last one actually maxed out Boston’s snow-removal budget. Because the snowfall is shutting businesses, roadways, and public transit down, and because it’s getting so hard to access even one’s vehicle, thousands of hourly workers aren’t able to work. I wouldn’t say we’re crippled yet, but it wouldn’t take much more, just one more big snowfall before any of this has a chance to melt, for something to break.
I don’t actually mind the snow that much. It’s inconvenient, and it keeps things colder than I’d like, but, me, I’m not too adversely affected. What amazes me though is how something so simple, frozen water, can become such an inexorable, inescapable constant of attention. It’s all anyone tweets about around here, it dominates the headlines, it’s all you can think about or see whenever you go anywhere. Snow snow snow snow snow. All snow all the time. Snow for a snow in snow on the snow with snowing snow to the snow of snow on snow snow snow now snow snow’s now’s snow.
I’ve been coping by planning, and imagining in vivid detail, the garden I’m going to plant in May. The lush profusion of tomatoes, eggplants, chard, cilantro, basil, marigolds, borage, catnip, peas and beans I’m going to call out of the soil. I draw in my mind a picture of a sunlit rectangle, erumpent and alive with leaves and fruits and bees and buzz. How hot it’s going to be, and wonderfully itchy and sweaty and dirty I’m going to be, soon soon soon, after all this snow snow snow.