By Bill O’Boyle - [email protected]

Feet to the Snow: 4 seasons are better than 1, even with snow

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Bill O’Boyle

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    PLAINS TWP. — Stella! Stell-aaa!!! STELLLLLAAAAAAAA!!!!!

    I found myself yelling her name over and over on Tuesday, much to my cat’s (Lily) dismay. She had this look on her face as if to say, “You’re no Marlon Brando.” And by the looks of things out my window, I wasn’t about to see a streetcar named desire pass by to pick me up and take me to work, no matter how much desire I had to go there.

    Suffice to say Vivian Leigh was not the vision of loveliness I saw when I looked outside.

    My Stella — our Stella — came in the form of more than two feet of snow. Stella was everywhere — in driveways, on streets, atop cars, on decks and, well, everywhere. Mother Nature’s latest born wreaked havoc on the region Tuesday, forcing most to stay home and wait it out.

    Some brave souls tried to leave their warm abodes to go to work. Some made it. Some — like me — fell woefully short.

    As I waited for someone to arrive with a snow-blower, I decided I would just back out of my garage and plow through the snow, get to the still un-plowed road and head for my workplace. On paper — and in my mind — it seemed like a good plan.

    Until I got halfway down my driveway. My car stopped, the tires began to spin. I persevered, thinking this really can’t be happening. After all, I have an all-wheel drive vehicle.

    My car moved a bit, back and to the left, into my neighbor’s driveway. Now I was sitting in my car with the rear end in my neighbor’s driveway and the front end in my driveway.

    Still, I persisted.

    After more spinning of tires, rocking and rolling, my car moved a bit again. This time backward again into the street. And it stopped again. Stuck, I was now, in the middle of my street.

    At this point, I am pretty certain that my stuck car and I were the featured act in this neighborhood. Those who were doing the logical responsible thing, of shoveling their driveways before they tried to get out of town, were standing, leaning on their snow shovels and watching an idiot — me.

    After a while, my neighbor and her daughter offered to help by shoveling the snow away from my tires. Two men in a pick-up truck stopped and helped as well. The five of us shoveled snow away from my tires, and we cleared a path back toward my garage.

    When it seemed possible, I got back in the car, gave it the gun and managed to get into my driveway and eventually back in the garage. I thanked everyone and closed the garage door, threw my snow-covered clothes in the dryer and headed for the shower.

    When I came downstairs, I took three Advil and wrote a story for the Times Leader.

    It seems I was not aware of the simple science of it all. My lifelong pal, Swarty, explained that when the snow is that high, a vehicle really cant get its tires on the pavement, therefore no traction. Swarty was right. I didn’t even have to call his brother, Strad.

    With this knowledge, I decided to wait to see if my friend with the snow-blower would show up. He never arrived. So Wednesday morning, I got up real early and I shoveled my driveway. It took me a long time. My back still hurts.

    Stella really left a mark on me and, I am sure, many other good people in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

    While I was recovering from my day of dealing with Stella, I checked out the Facebook. As you might expect, it was filled with photos of people proclaiming the amount of snow that had fallen on their worlds. Very nice, I thought, proving again that misery really doesn’t only love company, it sure attracts a lot of it.

    And then I started to see those other posts. The ones of friends in Florida, California, other warm areas. Sending us sunshine, they said.

    My response is keep your sunshine. I don’t want it. Keep your humidity too. And your lack of four delightful seasons.

    As difficult as it can be at times, I love the snow. Bring on the melting. I love slush even more. And rain if you want, oh Mother Nature, I long for the pitter patter.

    Then bring on spring and summer and fall, my favorite.

    It’s all good.

    Bill O’Boyle
    http://theweekender.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/web1_Oboyle_Bill-2-1-2.jpgBill O’Boyle

    By Bill O’Boyle

    [email protected]

    Reach Bill O’Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle, or email at [email protected]

    Reach Bill O’Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle, or email at [email protected]