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Wednesday, November 26, 2003

My car doors froze. Bottle-fuls of lukewarm water turned to ice seconds after I poured them. But the car trunk could open. I crawled in, started the car, and set the heater to high. I scraped the ice off the windows. After twenty minutes I opened the door.

That night, farther up the mountain, I watched the snow pile up. Most of the way to my house was downhill. Except for the crucial hill just outside. I didn't fancy a walk, in a t-shirt, through the woods in the snow. My tires made a disconcerting growl but took me up that hill.

The next morning Port Moody looked ready for a White Christmas greeting card. It all melted when I got home that night.

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