Musings on a snowy night

So we survived the snowstorm. We ended up with probably a foot or so, less than predicted but enough to mean the truck we'd been lent for the week came close to sliding off the edge of the driveway when the hubby tried to reverse it (rear wheel drive; it leapt sideways); he had to be rescued this morning by a friendly local with a 4x4 and a chain. I watched and winced as the huge beast teetered on the brink of the slope but our neighbour (who must have been in his 80s) was not so ginger. He hit the gas, burned some rubber and hauled that baby back onto the road.

In fact over the last 24 hours I've been forced to admit the utility, if not quite the neccessity, of the 4x4 truck out here in the hills. Not only can they actually be driven out of steep driveways during even a fairly major winter storm, but most of them can be fitted with a snowplough so not only they, but the rest of us too, can leave the house. But don't think I've gone soft - still no excuse for Range Rovers in SW3 or Hummers in Manhattan.

We went down to the river this afternoon to check out the snowscape. It was bloody freezing. I asked the hubby to email me the pics we took so I could post them on the blog. Here's one:

"It's going to be funny for her looking back on these pictures in 20 years time," he said as he uploaded them. "You know, she'll be living in whatever city and it'll be 89 degrees in winter and we'll say, 'That was a river and it was frozen right the way across!'"

This made me feel incredibly depressed.

Clearly, I couldn't let the moment pass. "...which is why I keep asking you to turn your bloody computer off before you go to bed every night!" I barked.

"Yes, yes, alright," he huffed. "I'm going out to take pictures of the stars."

We're both getting a bit nostalgic for our winter sojourn upcountry because all of a sudden, what with the week in the Bahamas, it's almost over. At first I missed the city desperately but I've really settled into the rythmn of country life - so much so that most days, I only leave the house to take Dot for a long walk in the woods (this is very good for the environment, and surprisingly undetrimental to my mental health - we have lots of visitors and - thank god - the internet). As I type this, I'm snuggled on the sofa in front of the log fire and outside it's completely silent. But two days after we get back from holiday we'll be moving down to the city and I just know things'll take on a life of their own and before we know it I'll be the archetypal harried working Mom, Dot'll be 5, the hubby'll be completely bald (oh wait, he already is) and all this will seem like someone else's life.

Thank god for yoga, the Park Slope co-op and a 4-day work week. Oh, and the little green project I'm hatching. Of which more later.

And lest you think we've been slacking on the greening, the hubby finally found that brick (well, actually, it's more of a rock) and put it in the cistern today. So our loo is now officially quite green.