Snowshoe Fun

After digging out our driveway, which was actually fun since all of us were outside, taking turns at shoveling, I finally put on the snowshoes I bought two years ago. Yes, two years ago. I've longed to get out and walk across snowdrifts, but the previous two winters, Mother Nature decided snowdrifts weren't a part of the plan for where I live. This year, since November, I've been asking Mother Nature to please, please, please let this winter be the winter I could finally wear my shiny pink aluminum snowshoes. The lovely Crone, and I say that in all honest adoration, must have heard me, for snowdrifts and snow piled high from the snow plows are now mine for the walking.

I fastened the snowshoes to my boots and set off across the street to first conquer the long drift against the building used to store desks, chairs, and other miscellaneous items for the school district. The drift was about five feet high, and from the front looked very packed. Upon reaching the top, however, I found out not much support was offered on the other side. I almost stepped into nothingness. For a few seconds, I stood at the top of the drift, reveling in my snowshoe prowess.

From the top of the drift I made my way into the biting wind. With ease I shoed along the top of the snow ledge piled along the edge of the street. An older gentleman walking in the middle of the street smiled up at me as he approached and said, "I used to do that a long, long time ago. Still looks like fun." I assured him it was and we parted ways.

At the end of the street, I turned and made my way a block south. People shoveling drives, a cab driver hanging out on a side street in case someone in the area needed a lift, and a squirrel nibbling on some seed in a bird feeder watched as I made easy work of the three feet deep snow.

I turned on a side street and headed back towards home. With the wind at my back and the sun on my face, I shoed easily past apartment buildings with drives still unplowed. Several cars parked near the buildings had snow drifted halfway up, completely covering the lower part of the doors. The owners, I mused, have a lot of digging ahead of them.

As I rounded the curve that would take me back to my warm house, I met a man coming from the other direction. At first, judging from the look on his face, he didn't quite get what I had strapped to my boots. Then his face brightened, and with a laugh he said, "Now that's the way to get around." I nodded, saying the shoes rock.

I arrived home feeling like a true wilderness explorer.