Sorry for the internet silence.
February was such a busy month, so much to do, running here there and everywhere February was so darn depressing with the more than 100 inches of snow that fell, and I couldn’t bring myself to write about it. I tried, I really did! I had these great ideas for lighthearted posts comparing Boston’s winter of 2015 to The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder, but when I actually attempted to write said posts I would end up face-planting on my keyboard in utter despair. It’s not the end of the world. It’s a lot of snow, but unlike the Ingalls family, we have plenty of food and we aren’t forced to grind wheat in our coffee mill to make bread.
There’s no need to twist hay into sticks to keep the fire going. We’re cozy and entertained in our little duplex in the Boston suburbs.
The (commuter) trains are still running, just not at all reliably. This has been the hardest thing about the past month. No, we don’t depend on the train for food, but we do depend on the train to bring our Daddy home at a normal time every night. Poor Dave usually misses seeing Gus and sometimes Sara too at night because trains are delayed or just cancelled and he’s left stranded at South Station till 8 or once even 9 at night. And poor Ellen… she loses her marbles.
It is an extraordinary amount of snow! The Long Winter was my favorite Little House book when I was little, mostly because it was such an amazing story! Sure they had these great hardships, but what a feat to live through a winter like that! But last month when I found myself in the midst of a similar winter, even with all of my modern comforts I was so whiney and cooped up! Good thing Lent came in the middle of the month to remind me to offer up the inconveniences and headaches caused by this winter. Or that’s the idea, at least!
And now I can (almost) say that I have lived through a record breaking winter! True Bostonians like to tell harrowing stories about the winter of ’78; maybe after this winter I will be a true Bostonian at last.
Meanwhile, I wait in hope for the drippy, blowing chinook to bring spring to us.