Timber!

On Saturday Lucy and I set up scaffolding around the woodshed. One of the few remaining old spruce trees had snapped about eight feet from the base and crashed down on the woodshed roof, holing it in three places.

I worked from a 10-foot long platform with a chainsaw while Lucy carried away the wood. When I had the tree clear of the shed, I showed her how to cut with the saw; she did very well, though she said it shook her from head to toe.

On Sunday, I shut the garage door against a driving blizzard and overhauled the rear brakes on the Honda. I wasn't really expecting a serious fall of snow, and I certainly didn't anticipate the dreadful weather on Monday! UNB opened at noon today, which was fortunate, because until 10:00am all hands were on shovels in Cross Creek. I dug out the oil tank, and then burrowed my way back to where Lucy was cutting an avenue through an eight-foot drift. Jo went over to dig out Diane so she could finally escape from her house after two days of captivity. We were able to leave our own house only because Boris got up early and dug out the back door. Phew!

I am always reassured by a full woodshed. "Whatever else happens," I think, "we can be warm." At times, we have had to cook on the woodstove, and even melt snow for water. When we rebuilt the back of the house, that stove was at the centre of our planning, and I can't imagine being without it now. I would like to have one in the basement as well, to keep the pipes from freezing in a power outage. We did get a hefty gas-powered generator, though we have never used it.

All  in all, it has been a rough winter. I can recall at least one year when the snow was a little deeper, but this season beats that one for pure staying power: here it is April, and another storm is forecast for Sunday! I am afraid that when we finally get rid of the snow, we will find the trees have suffered terribly.

Someone went round posting little signs in all the washrooms--a World Water Day stunt. This one suggests that I "turn off the tap" when rinsing my razor. That's not going to work! I suppose they meant that I should put the plug in and run a little water in the bowl, or something like that, but the crass idiocy of the advice seems symptomatic.