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I managed to get out the back door thanks to the melt from the roof, which had beat back the drift on the deck into an adamant plain of knee-high white. I started a path toward the steps, throwing snow over the railing. It was then that I realized, in addition to the medium sized pine that had collapsed across the deck, nearly missing the house, that another pine was rakishly draped across the back of the garage.
 
Shit. I didn’t remember that from last week, but maybe it was all too much to take in at one time.
 
This was a hell of a storm. They say we might get another one by the end of the week.

I shoveled on, decks and paths and barn-roof, until the last light faded toward the mountains and the mercury vapor security light came on next to the house.
 
Heckle had his food, and I was about done. I left the shovel by the back door and tracked ice into the mud room and made a substantial vodka. Then I went back to the deck and listened to the melt.
 
I promised Heckle the dry stuff was good enough for now and he could have a can of tuna in the morning, but I wasn’t going to put it out while the god-damn raccoons were going to get it.
 
Now I have to find a guy with a chainsaw.
 

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Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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