It’s challenging to get kindergarteners dressed for a snowy day recess. In comparison to what I’m going to tell you about, that’s a piece of cake. Suiting up an astronaut for a space walk is easy as pie in comparison. Making sure a Jacques Cousteau deep-sea diver is properly dressed is difficult. Fitting a DD-endowed actress into her gown is also a challenge. When she takes her bows after accepting her Golden Globe award, there must be no possibility of a ‘wardrobe mishap’.
However, what I do several times each winter is far more difficult, time-consuming and of critical importance than all of the above combined.
A glance at the outside thermometer made me think that the bulb at its bottom had sprung a leak; no mercury in sight. None of the routine noises outside. School buses cancelled. Garbage truck running late. No barking dogs being taken for a walk. It was a “Silent night”, but now all is white. It might as well be the feast of Stephen, for “…the snow is deep and crisp…” – but not even. On the windward side of my pickup, the frozen grass has been bared. Unfortunately, the leeward driver’s side has snow almost as high as an elephant’s eye.
It’s time to plod behind my snowblower. I start the time-consuming process of getting myself dressed to deal with Eastern Ontario’s January bitter cold, deep snow and biting wind.
Remembering what those kindergarten kids had to do to prepare them for winter recess, I pay a visit to the little room down the hall. Afterwards I double-check to make sure my fly is done up. In temperature conditions where Celsius and Fahrenheit meet, failure to do so could result in damage to the plumbing.
There are now more than a dozen items of dress to be attended to. Just as in house construction, one starts at the bottom. Woollen socks are a must. No cotton jeans; fleece trousers take their place, over which go windbreaking nylon pants with elasticized cuffs. On go the high-top fleece-lined boots. The pant cuffs are pulled far down to prevent infiltration by the crotch-high snow.
Next, a long-sleeved fleece T-shirt, its generous length tucked inside the trousers, which are then snugged to prevent trespass by chilling drafts. Next, another insulating layer, a jacket, over which a nylon windbreaker is applied.
Gas-powered snow blowers are noisier than a gaggle of hard of hearing seniors, so ear guards (that look like ear muffs) are more than a winter fashion statement. They are de rigueur if working with any high rpm small engines (or large engines, such as RR Merlins or P&W Wasps).
Then, the body’s attic. On goes a ball cap that has a large visor to shelter my eyes from the swirling clouds of snow. Then the ear guards, followed by the hood of the insulated coat, over which goes the nylon windbreaker’s hood, draw string tightened.
Finally, leather mittens with woollen inserts. The sleeves of the jacket have to overlap them. That’s when I call out, “Juliet! Could you tuck me in!”
If the snowblower starts, we’re off to the races. Plod, plod, plod is far better than shovelling.
