Winter in the Field of Poppies

Dorothy running through the field of poppies, gradually succumbing to the feat. But, yet, surviving and reaching the Emerald city. The past two winters have been our field of poppies. We received over five feet of snow, eleven inches in one night. Our roads are not regularly plowed and I awoke one morning with a blanket of white all around. No definition of roads, rocks, or woodpile. I tried to drive out and high centered my car. It took two hours to shovel out. Brad then drove the car to Mt. Index road. All this while he had headaches from high blood pressure and pneumonia. I then proceeded to work, very carefully. The next day our road was plowed, but the pathways required constant shoveling. The snow fell almost daily since December. The world was beautiful, but not conducive to arriving at work on time.

Our power is intermittent. And with loss of power is loss of water. We hauled water in and showered at the gym. Yes, I am starting to use the gym for exercising, not just showering. I rather liked using the wood stove and candles. Lots of sandwiches and eating out.

As I try to follow a spiritual path, I stub my toe on rocks in the path. Mice are one of them. The cold spell we have every year drives them towards the warmth of our home. Brad sets traps for them. Our kill rate is up to ten, not near my good friend from Minnesotta Dawn's kill of 31, but ten more than I would like. I am reminded that I will never be a saint. Reality: I contract Brad to kill for me. This coming from the person who cried if she accidental killed an ant or worm when she was a child. Yes, my comfort level wins out over my spiritual self. Hard truth to face about myself. This winter was long, but did not have the normalcy, punctuated with drama, that last winter had.

The winter starts with flooding in the Cascades. Last year, the bridges were half an inch from being shut down. One night I could not make it home and stayed at my daughter Jessica's home, eight miles away in Gold Bar. We drove around Sultan marveling at the water rushing under the bridge. One could reach out and touch it. The bridge going to Ben Howard Road had trees passing under it. The flooding had entered Sultan, closing off roads and flooding buildings. Brad was stranded behind a wall of water on Mt. Index Road. He told me the of water was to his waist and he could see the spawning salmon swimming through it. He could reach out and grab them. His night alone, without power, was peaceful. Our home was not threatened.

Then the ice storm hit. We at work made plans to get home. Woodinville is known for bad storms. Stacey, Daf, Sandra, Jill and I headed for home at 10:30 pm. We were a caravan heading north out of Woodinville. Jill and Sandra headed for Highway 9, knowing they would be in heavy traffic and moving at a crawl. Stacey in her Ford Explorer and Daf and I in my Dodge Durango headed up the steep hill on Woodinville-Duvall road. We did not know if we would make it out of town judging from the number of littered cars on the side of the road. These abandoned cars were twisted into an odd formation due to the whim of the iced road. The road was one sheet of ice. At another time, I would have enjoyed a fast, very fast, sled ride down this long hill. Once safely at the top, we stopped for gas. The station was already full of people who had stopped for supplies, gas, and commissary. I was thinking about our chances of survival when Stacey and Daf came out of the station with hot dogs, chips, and drinks. Stacey said laughingly that we needed nourishment for the journey. Stacey makes everything an adventure, she dreads nothing and is absolutely fearless. Thanks to Stacey, I now was on a quest, not a death trap. I quickly ate my hot dog as both hands were needed on the wheel as we drove, or glided, at 5 mph. My knuckles were white gripping the wheel, waiting for the ice to have its way with me.

Lady Luck was riding with us. By the time we reached the downhill slope going into Duvall, the ice road was breaking up. Otherwise, we would would have really had an adventure. The only vehicles on the road had 4-wheel drive and studs or chains. Vehicles without those were quiet on the side of the road. In Monroe, we left Daf at her doorstep, which was still a task to cross with the snow. Stacey and I proceeded east on Highway 2 without incident. By now we could drive at 35 - 40 mph. A real treat after Woodinville-Duvall. I left Stacey at Big Bend and proceeded up into the foothills of the Cascades. My adventure resumed.

I was facing near white out conditions due to the snow. No lines or markers of the road could be seen. No snowplow had been through nor any vehicles for that matter. A smooth surface of snow to maneuver. I drove slowly looking for signs of the road, knowing a hillside was on my right and the Skykomish river was on my left. Somehow I made it to Mt. Index road, I don't remember most of it, I was concentrating so hard. Mt Index Road was a comfort as the snow forms around the shape of the road. I made it home only to find that we had no power, but it felt warm and comforting none the less. Brad came home within the hour having driven the 50 miles from Renton, mainly on the back roads. All major freeways and highways were blocked. Some people spent eight hours getting home. Stacey, Daf, and I got home before co-workers who had left work hours before we did. Brad had to face going downhill on roads that bystanders said could not be done. We were glad to see one another and were reminded once again that a day will come when one of us will not be there to greet the other.

Our last adventure of the season was a windstorm. Trees fell over Highway 2, forcing Brad back to Gold Bar. He spent the night at Jessica's. I spent the night alone with Rigel, our 65 lb Siberian Husky. There was once again no power but I did get a fire going. The sound of heavy branches crashing on the roof would startle Rigel and me. Rigel was afraid of fire and kept trying to climb onto my lap. You can see how much fun I was having. I kept in touch with the world using the emergency radio Brad had insisted on buying. I listened to KOMO 1000 all night long, marveling at the community of stranded folks helping each other. People were offering rides, wood, and food to each other. I said a prayer of thanks that the people I love were safe somewhere. Yes, I was a little jealous that Brad and Jessica were together without me, but grateful they were safe.

The rainy season is late, but has begun. The birds are singing again and the snow is slowly melting. I am ready for new adventures.