Waiting on the plow

(Please note - this picture is NOT an accurate representation of what's going on outside my window. In truth, it's still much too dark to take a current outside photo, we have WAAAAAY more snow than what's shown here and in reality this tree is missing its right side. Alas, it was a winter-ish type picture stored on my hard drive and will have to serve as illustration enough for this post.)

It's quarter to 7 on a work day and all is quiet in the house. Lana's still sleeping and I am enjoying my second cuppa coffee and listening to nothing but the sound of the clock ticking and my own fingers typing. I'm waiting for the plow and don't want to miss the tell-tale rumbling of the machine as it whizzes down Clear Creek Road, chains clanking as it blessedly clears the way to the highway, and thus, to town.

The good husband called me about 30 minutes ago with instructions not to leave until the plow frees me. He took the big truck to work and relayed his adventurous drive to me. Three tricky, drifty spots nearly pulled him off the road, which is not-so-subtle code for, "Wifey, in 4-wheel drive the drifts nearly had their way with me. You and the child in the little car wouldn't have a chance." And so we wait.

This is one of the realities of living out in the country. Some days we are at the mercy of the snow plow. Some days we are late and some days we must return early in order to make it home safe and warm before dark falls or the winds pick up. And still some days we watch the weather and make the wise decision not to attempt the drive to town at all. It's not every day, or even very many days really. It is winter, after all, and delays and inconveniences are to be expected.

Stay safe out there, and if you need to, don't be afraid to wait for the plow.