New Snow

There is a legend that the Esquimeaux have a hundred words for snow. A report I read a few years ago said they only have a dozen or so. I don’t know any of them but I’d love to know whatever word it is they have for the one that came yesterday and last night. I bet a general interpretation means "makes you fall on your butt" or something like that.

It is so light and fine and dry that each flake is like a tiny, ultra-efficient, lubricant. Put a few billion of them together and you have something that is slicker than a Chicago politician in a dimly lit room. This stuff is amazing. I know less about snow skiing than your average retarded cricket but if “good powder” means dry, fluffy and highly zoom-able, this must be it.

Even with the extra-wide, slightly knobby tires, my little Kyoti four-wheel drive tractor was slipping and sliding all over the place this morning as I bladed the drive and the pullover spot for our letter carrier. Several times, I had to back out of spots because I couldn’t go forward and maintain steering. When you’re looking at a half-acre of flat field, that doesn’t matter so much. When you’re inches away from the cut edge of a four-foot ditch, that’s another matter.

I did manage to stay out of the ditches and angle most of the snow out of the drive. I don’t think anyone watching me would have been impressed with the skill and dexterity I demonstrated in the process. But sometimes, it’s more about getting a thing done than it is about impressing someone.

Remember that the next time you’re considering some good thing that you know someone else might do better than you. But… be careful of the ditches.

H. Arnett


About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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