“Frozen”—the suburban version

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Feb 9, 2014

Is anyone else feeling like our small town has gotten quite a lot smaller since the last snow storm? The white mounds are everywhere. Along every pathway, driveway and road in rye. It’s as if someone decided to papier-mache our little enclave in an effort to create a new landscape.  

 

It is forcing us all to be more cautious. The deep freeze is slowing us all down. We are pausing in places we never paused before and having way more face offs in our cars. We must wait our turn to cross paths. Dogs and people all forced closer into the double yellow lines of Forest Avenue for their Sunday stroll.

 

The sidewalks are mini obstacle courses. The driveways are narrower and more treacherous. Our minivan now has a huge dent in the bumper. It was innocently driven into the unyielding brick wall that so keenly masquerades as a snow bank.

 

A beloved neighbor and I attempt a leisurely cross country ski at our usual haunt of the Apawamis golf course. We discover that we cannot break the surface. We are skiing on a frozen tundra. The 18th hole may as well be a Canadian lake in February. The snow looks pretty and inviting, but the ice crust that formed in the last storm created an impenetrable shield. So uphill is not an option. And moving forward means slipping sideways.

 

Our verdict: leave the cross country skiing to the Sochi Olympians until the thaw arrives.

 

Even our dog can’t manage it. She skids across our front lawn as if on Playland’s ice rink. And everything is quieter. The frozen snow is a plush carpet that’s been laid down all over Rye. It does double duty in muffling sounds while creating a constant glare. The brilliance and quiet are admittedly magnificent though.

 

The next snow is due tonight. Our pathways will become even narrower and it will get even quieter. Parking will get even harder.

 

Is this God’s way of bringing us all closer? It must be, as we all huddle in for warmth and space along the double yellow lines. Image

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