Blizzard #2, another wild adventure

Ok, seriously. This is getting ridiculous. I am no longer living in Canada! I know Iowa is considered a Northern state, but it isn't supposed to be this snowy! I actually had to DIG my 4wd truck out of the short expanse of driveway to get to the road (I've been parking at the end of the driveway). There are 6 foot drifts in places! The snow is even deeper in the ditches. And this isn't the first but the SECOND blizzard just this month!!

It all started with rain this past Wednesday (the 23rd). I was supposed to work, but I worried that I wouldn't be able to make it home from Omaha after dark if the temperature dropped and all that rain turned to ice. I can drive through some snow (don't like it, but it's possible). I absolutely HATE trying to drive on ice. Bad things happen when the roads are icy. I totalled my blue Ranger on an ice-covered overpass.

By Thursday the rain had frozen into crusty sheets of crunchy ice. Yet again I didn't go to work, although I did drive to Omaha. The Walmart photo lab called. My present for Julie (a desk calendar with pictures of her horses) was ready earlier than expected and I had the chance to get it before Christmas! I invited Quimby along for company so that I wouldn't be white-knuckling the 90 mile round trip drive alone. The interstate wasn't horrible yet. I didn't see any cars off the road, at least none that were visible through the falling snow. The driving lane was mostly clear; I could actually see pavement in two tracks where other vehicles had driven. The passing lane was coated in white.

I chose to take the route I normally follow to go to work. I expected that the driving conditions in town would be better than on the interstate, and I was correct. However, I didn't expect to see Walmart so PACKED. What is with people and their desire to hit the stores as soon as bad weather strikes? I certainly questioned my own sanity for heading out in the storm, but my strong desire to claim Julie's present conquered my intense dislike of winter driving.

We certainly didn't set any landspeed records commuting to town and back. Past the infamous bridge where my poor Ranger met her demise, a car rested in the ditch, flipped completely over onto its roof. I think it was there from the day before, because it had already been tagged with police tape. I switched to four wheel drive when I reached the gravel road I live on in order to push through heavy drifts crawling their way across my path. Previously, when I had the Ranger and after it the crappy Mazda, I had gotten stuck in just such drifts. There aren't any trees bordering the open fields to prevent snow from blowing all over the road during major storms.

When I pulled into my driveway finally, I had an odd feeling as I looked around and didn't see the ponies. They weren't by the roundbale or in the shelter or even by the house where they loved to gather to wait for their dinner. My suspicions were confirmed when I discovered a stretch of wire fencing on the ground. Silly ponies, why do you choose the worst possible timing to explore the neighborhood? I resigned myself to a cold trek through biting winds to find the errant runaways.

I covered myself from head to toe in warm, insulated material for my search. First came the coveralls, pulled up over my jeans and zipped as far as I could get them to go (I've gained weight since last winter, so that stubborn zipper will not reach the top anymore, at least not until I drop a few pounds). Next came my down-filled coat, then two pairs of socks, falling apart boots (I am in desperate need of new footwear), scarf, hat, and gloves. I felt like a giant marshmallow, but at least I was more mobile in my get-up than the poor kid in the snowsuit from A Christmas Story.

It wasn't at all difficult to discover where my horses had ventured. The ice on the road showed indentations where their hooves had passed. Logically (well, as logical as ponies deciding to abandon food, shelter, and water to roam through a winter storm), the horses fleed from intense wind and flying snow, heading first East down the road, then turning South at the corner. Quimby dashed ahead of me, while my goat decided she wanted to come along. I didn't even grab halters, just a bag of feed. I knew they'd be happy to come home, but I wanted to make sure they had motivation to turn back into the wind.

The horses never strayed from the road. Sure enough, they were at the home of the strange neighbor, the only one I've never talked to in all my years at my house. As soon as I called, three white-speckled bodies galloped towards me, eager to reunite with their human caretaker. I turned on my heel and tucked my chin to my chest to keep my eyes out of the daggers of wind-driven snow. I could feel it sticking to my lips and numbing my nose and cheeks. The ponies swirled around me, trotting ahead, then coming back, then forging on at a faster clip. I tried to run as well, but I'm well out of shape and I couldn't maintain the pace very long. Zeplin was the last to abandon my side as the two mares trotted briskly down the road back towards the corner. For a few minutes they milled in confusion at the corner, and I yelled at them to turn, futily gesturing in the direction of the house.  I was still too far back. Jazzy decided they needed to continue straight, and the others followed her furry chestnut rump.

In the distance I could make out the twin headlamps of a car approaching my charging herd. I had reached the corner, but the horses were more than a quarter of a mile away from me. In the gathering dusk I could barely make out their fuzzy forms enveloped in billowing snow.

Fortunately my ponies had changed direction again and were now cantering merrily back up the road to meet me. This time I was able to direct them around the corner and back towards our home. I trudged along slowly behind them, and the car that had been following pulled up next to me. The driver, a young man probably in his late twenties, opened the door to speak to me.

"Are those your horses?" asked the driver. In the seat next to him, his girlfriend (?) smiled at me.

I nodded wearily. "The fence is down, but they weren't difficult to find," I replied.

"I knew there weren't any horses down that way," he said, taking in my weather-appropriate attire. "Would you like a ride?"

I accepted gratefully, blinking snow-covered lashes against the stinging wind. The car felt like a sauna. He drove slowly after my retreating herd. Quimby and the goat raced behind us.

At the house, the horses were searching for a way back into the pasture. I thanked the friendly couple for the ride, then plunged into the thigh-deep drift by the downed fence, calling for the horses to follow me and shaking the feedbag. I led them to the round pen and closed them inside, allowing each of them to grab a mouthful of grain from the bag in my hand. Thus concluded the most recent madcap escape by my deranged little herd. The horses were now confined to the round pen until I could get the fence repaired, which certainly wasn't going to happen that night!

The wind and snow did not abate at all the following day (Christmas). I called Julie, and she informed me that she was completely snowed in at her house in the hills. Snow up to her husband's waist had drifted over their driveway, and the roads to town were even worse. Another friend, Deb, who lives North of me and also in the hills, sent pictures of mounds of snow blocking the only road away from her house.

I temporarily mended my wire fence and released the ponies from their prison. Immediately, they all headed for the spot where the fence had been down. No doubt they were hoping to take another casual jaunt down the street. Brats.

I watched from my window for awhile as Zeplin annoyed the mares. He's an instigator, and he just loves causing a commotion. However, the horses soon gave up on withstanding the arctic breeze, and they hightailed it back to their shelter to huddle together and stare bailfully out at the hay rapidly being buried in snow.

My power blinked on and off several times. I think the longest it was out was about half an hour. Every time I would get my computer rebooted to do something, the power switched off again. After awhile, I gave up and laid in bed in the cold house, trying to use the booklight my mom sent to read some magazines. A freshly bathed Quimby vied for space next to me with a determined and hostile Kit Kit. The cat won the most coveted prize, space right by my face.

Later in the evening, I braved the wind again to bring my pathetic, miserable ponies their dinner. I had power again, thankfully, and it remained on for most of the night.

Yesterday the wind calmed enough for me to hike around outside for awhile. I watched a backhoe make a couple passes down the road. The ponies zealously guarded the remains of their round bale, reluctant to abandon it after being separated by the weather the day before. In the late afternoon, Julie called and asked if I wanted to come over--the road crews had freed them from their wintery trap!

My truck was already in four wheel drive, so I attempted to use momentum from the first few cleared yards to push my way out of a snowy embankment encasing the driveway. No good. I high centered the truck. Took awhile to dig enough snow out from under it (with the help of a kind stranger who stopped to assist) before I was able to finally free my truck and head down the road. I had difficulty seeing where it had even been cleared, although I knew there should be a path. The truck handled it easily, fortunately.

The interstate was fine, although I passed four "new" cars in the ditch. Driving through town, though, I felt as if I had been transported back to Canada. The plowed piles of snow were over the roof of my truck!

It began snowing again before I left Julie's house. The wind had picked up some, but visibility wasn't bad. However, the little misfire my engine had previously (a different cylinder) chose to erupt into a major misfire, and I had little acceleration. Ok, truck, you have EIGHT cylinders. Why do you feel so crippled when just ONE is suffering from issues? You still have seven good cylinders, and that's more than a lot of other vehicles have!!

So I puttered along back up the interstate without even enough steam to pass an overly cautious driver ahead of me. My road had been cleared again, even better this time, although only one lane wide, but the wind had already caused new drifts to spill over the passage. Once again, I needed my four wheel drive just to make it down the road to my house.

The driveway I had cleared previously was drifted closed again. I didn't have enough room to make a wide turn into the part with the least amount of snow, so I became stuck again. My truck was more than halfway in the road, definitely blocking any other vehicle that chose to pass through (although I don't know anyone crazy enough to do so other than me).

I sighed and hauled the pitchfork out of the back of the truck again. After much sweating and cursing, I was able to work the truck out and straighten it so that I could forge through the lower snow bank. I was off the road now but had no clue how I would get my truck back out. Meanwhile, during the session of back breaking snow shoveling, I noticed that my driver's side headlamp was out (the other had been replaced just a couple weeks ago). Great.

I've had it! I'm ready to move back SOUTH!!!