Snow Dozer

We walked an old route this morning--we hadn't been here since the fall.  The snow is so deep now and my heart sank a bit when I saw that no one had forged a trail to the old orchard where I had hoped to go.  I knew it would be really hard for us to get there since Mercy's legs are still short-ish, as are mine.  We did our best to cooperate with the conditions, first climbing over a 6-foot high bank, and then attempting weightlessness as we moved over crusty snow.  A few times--ok, most of the time--I broke through the crust and sank hip-deep into the snow.  The first time it happened I thought I might be stuck there forever.  Mercy summed my situation up as best a puppy could and seemed to arrive at the same conclusion.  Admittedly, it was an absurd way to be hiking but absurdity seems to be the rolling theme of this winter's Tour de Snow.

Nevertheless, we inched onward.  I could see something way out in the middle of the field, but it was still too far away for me to identify.  I had to know--I felt the challenge.  We worked up quite a sweat getting there. As we inched closer, the insanity of this quest took a back seat to my curiosity and excitement.  It was worth the effort to find out what this thing was.  Or so I hoped.

At last, we were close enough to solve the mystery.  Worth it, it was. I had to laugh.  Yes indeed--a plow.  A stuck plow! This little plow seemed to be staring down winter with all earnestness.  Effective? no.  Determined? yes.  I admired its stance.

We turned to head home.  The main road seemed days away.  Oh, it'll be easy, I told Mercy.  Mercy rolled her eyes.  We began our long, slow journey back across the field. I sank up to my hips again and again. Effective?  No.  Determined?  Yes.  Absurd?  Absolutely.