Good fellows

December 22, 2008

            I LOVE my neighborhood.  Love it, love it, love it!!!

            I got myself stuck in a snowbank tonight.  It’s been snowing all day.  Even so, we each have sallied out to pick up a final thing or two before the great day.  Headlights on in the middle of the day, creeping along even the main roads.  We didn’t begin to see snowplows till the day was almost over.  G ran out for Christmas groceries.  Chaz snuck away with Cam to do some secret shopping.  Then Chaz and I did the same, getting back from our own snowy junket just about dark, in time to feed the beasts.

            Solstice dark, and down west on Center, the snow piled up good and deep.  Christmas lights on the houses throw jewel-colored smears across the soft mounds of snow, the fields behind all the darker for it.  I went very carefully, it was so slick, making two stops before the pasture—there to drop little gifts off at the houses of my horse neighbors who have been more than kind.  I caught Bob in the back, driving his huge machine, an uber mother bobcat, the cab a good six feet above the ground and the scoop about the size of two claw foot bathtubs set end to end.  I have no idea what he was doing with it, but there were neighbors with him, all working together.  I dropped off a loaf of Guy’s bread there along with good wishes and ran off.

            My Sienna has been great in the snow, so I confidently ran it off into the snowbank in front of my gate  (you have to get way off these roads when you park—everybody—and then some—comes barreling down that country collector, and you could lose half a car if somebody slid in just the wrong place).  I left the car and climbed the gate.  The horses were palpable shadows out on the drifted flat of the pasture.  But here’s the odd part: the pasture was glowing.  And as my eyes adjusted, suddenly, that phrase about the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow came forcefully to mind: I could see everything in a day-for-night kind of way.

            The horses were impatient, chasing each other irritably and stamping for hay.  When they had it at last and I was sure they were safe, I was more than ready for home and jammies and dinner.  Back down the glowing drive I walked, boots squeaking and crunching in the snow.  Climbed the gate.  Got into the car.  Fired it up and gave it some gas.  And moved not an inch in any direction.  Snowbound, stuck, mired, frozen in.  My next door neighbors to the east, busily digging themselves out, didn’t seem to notice (yeah – they’ll pay for that!!), but as I was trying this and that in order to get myself out, another neighbor pulled out of Bob’s driveway in his great big four wheel drive truck.  He and the three happy hunting dogs in the back stopped, and he leaned out of his window to ask if I was stuck.  “Sure am!” I said.  So he, who had been on his own way home, turned around, dug me out and pushed till I was free.  It was wonderful!  Especially seeing as I’d never been sure this taciturn farmer liked me much.  Now, whether he did or no, I knew him for a good man.

            So home I went.  And there Guy and I gathered up hot loaves of bread, all done up in crinkly sacks and rough brown twine and set out to take them to other friends.  One went to the uncle of my buddy across the street, a man once professional, but in later decades, a cow farmer—always ready to help us, always working.  He lost his wife two years ago, and his beloved dog soon after.   He came to his door tonight looking fresh out of the bath, swathed in his robe – and took the hot bread with delight and grace and said he loved us for it.  A little payback for his kindness. 

            Then we went looking for Samaritan Tom and his three dogs.  As we drove down Center, even darker now and colder, there was Bob in his monster machine, now cleaning the snow off our horse driveway and shoulder, mounding the stuff up six, eight, ten feet high along the fence line.  We dropped warm bread off down at Tom’s (which made him smile – a fresh experience for me).  As we made our way back up the road toward home, I squinted, wondering if Bob was still at it up there.  “Yes,” Guy said.  “Can you see it?”  And there it was, big as an elephant, a shadow, moving slowly back and forth across the road—like something out of Jurassic Park, hunting—but really, a great, lumbering guardian angel, digging out all the neighbors, all the drives.

            We drove into our residential neighborhood and the place was crawling with four wheeler bull-dozers, snow-blowers, guys with shovels—all working on everybody else’s place.  All in the best humor possible.  If it hadn’t been so cold and dangerous out there, I’d have bundled up and walked the streets, just for the jolly company.

            Now, here we are, warm and happy, gathered around the fire, and—wait.  Somebody’s at the door.  Gotta go! Treats, treats, treats and maybe even a song.  Love it, love it, love it.