Snow

It snowed yesterday evening and into the night. I woke several times and heard the clank and rattle of a plow going past: a reassuring sound. I love evidences of community and collective action. This morning the streets are all plowed, also the park sidewalks. A little light snow is falling in the sunlight. High today of 26 above. High Sunday of minus 11. High Monday of minus 18.

I remember an interview with a supervisor for the Department of Transportation talking about what it was like to plow the highways in western Minnesota after a bad snow storm. The drivers were plowing through drifts fifteen feet high, knowing that there might be stalled cars under the drifts, which they could hit. If they saw a stalled car, they had to stop and find out if anyone was inside -- possibly frozen to death. After describing this, the supervisor said, "A day like this is hard on the guys." None the less, the roads get plowed, and human civilization continues.

Patrick and I lived -- decades ago -- in Hamtramck, Michigan, a small town entirely surrounded by Detroit. The town had no plows and contracted with Detroit to get the main streets plowed. People had to do their own shoveling on the side streets. Usually the snow wasn't that deep, and you didn't have to shovel out the entire street. But you'd shovel out a parking space for your car and then put a wooden kitchen chair in the space to hold it. I would sooner pay taxes and hire a street department.