We had our last Seniors' lunch of the season and it was a seasonal one: roast turkey and stuffing (two donated turkeys, one cooked at home by Barb Longva & one by me) and all the trimmings but in special and marvellous variations thanks to our Health Centre coordinator, Lisa Finney: root crop casserole, corn salad, beans with garlic and roasted baby tomatoes, gravy, cranberry salsa, rolls, a baked nut and artichoke heart roll with roasted veggies for the vegetarians, trifle -- 2 kinds with fresh fruit and custard and sherry and cream -- and a creamy whipped dessert made by Yvonne Megans, all lemony and light with chocolate decorations. Oh, and I forgot, the pies, pecan with dried fruit -- my teeth hurt thinking of it.
But here's the thing. Snow. Remember I wrote about all the snow we've had BEFORE winter has even started? Well, the snow continues and we got our biggest snowfall yet yesterday and through the evening, lots and lots of heavy wet snow. So this morning, while the turkey roasted, we went out to clear the concrete-like snow from the driveway, from around the house, from the mail & newspaper boxes and of course the huge pile left by the snow plough at the end of the driveway. And we did it in time to get the turkey to the hall, which was in the process of being ploughed -- thank goodness. I didn't relish the idea of hauling all the food from the road to the church steps.
My heroes, Andy & the snowblower.
And Merrill in his plough.
The lunch was grand and we sang Christmas and seasonal songs while the last bits of food cooked. People trickled in as their driveways where ploughed so by the time lunch was served the hall was filled with very hungry people, including our Councillor/snowplough operator, Merrill MacInnis. So, ladies and gentlemen, a good time was had by all.
I realized this afternoon after bringing three loads of wood in and sinking over my knees in the snow banks and gritting my teeth, that I needed a gentler less angry feeling for snow -- its here and I can't do anything about it so might as well get into the snow spirit. I found this lovely poem by Nancy Willard that I copied years ago from the New Yorker and I offer it here for you.
The Snow Arrives After Long Silence
The snow arrives after long silence
from its high home where nothing leaves
tracks or stains or keeps time.
The sky it fell from, pale as oatmeal,
bears up like sheep before shearing.
The cat at my window watches
amazed. So many feathers and no bird!
All day the snow sets its table
with clean linen, putting its house
in order. The hungry deer walk
on the risen loaves of snow.
You can follow the broken hearts
their hooves punch in its crust.
Night after night the big plows rumble
And bale it like dry laundry
and haul it to the
Now I scan the sky for snow,
and the cool cheek it offers me,
and its body, thinned into petals,
and the still caves where it sleeps.
The New Yorker, Dec. 1, 2003