The fourth season is upon us: the season that causes us to go forth from this great land.
While we were in Calgary recently, Ottawa had a snow storm, followed by freezing rain, followed by hours of rain that somehow did not knock down all the snow. The plowed roads just outside the city’s core are enlivened by crusty snow windrows: crusty due to the aforementioned freezing rain. It’s all in the timing: Plow too early and there is still snow to come; too late and you’re churning up blocks of ice.
Anyway, these windrows are obstructions to parking and dangers to seniors getting out of cars once the parking is more-or-less accomplished. They are uneven, unpredictable, slippery little devils that defy purchase even in rugged hiking shoes.
As I inched out of the car, holding onto the door and looking for my next foothold, I saw a face that about summed-up how I was feeling. And, um, Buddy? I hesitate to mention it, but winter hasn’t even started yet.