Red Boots, A Blizzard Warning, and Mercedes Limousines

Purrrl, who can tell time, woke me up with gentle paw taps at 6:00 so that I could get ready for work. Purrrl did not know that the blizzard outside had already inspired work to be cancelled. When she woke me, I had been dreaming that I was in Cape May, carrying around a fat Psychology textbook with Hannah Arendt on the cover, and the neighbors I hardly knew were trying to get me to drive them somewhere in my fictitious extra-long vintage Mercedes. I didn't know where they had to go, but I had to get to class and I was frightened of them. Perhaps Purrrl woke me up because she could sense that I was in distress. I've never seen one of these while awake, but they do exist, with three rows of seats just like in my dream!

Purrrl and I walked into the kitchen where the tiny ice pellets from the storm were hitting that window with a racket much louder than the bedroom. Maybe that's what had Purrrl concerned. Cats act crazy during storms. Once I was fully awake, she settled down, and we both found our spots in the living room. I recognized the Psychology book from the dream. It was actually my thick World War II history book that I'm reading for a trip I'm taking in May. Instead of Arendt on the cover it shows two lines of soldiers trudging through snow in helmets on their heads and masks over their mouths and noses. I don't know why I wasn't carrying the actual book in the dream or why it was Psychology. I never studied Psychology (formally) for more than a semester, and I never studied Hannah Arendt at all. (Maybe she appeared because I'm currently binge-watching Transparent, and the Pfefferman Family is Jewish. I would be surprised if I made that connection, even subconsciously.)

The storm was supposed to be a big deal. We were supposed to get 10-18 inches, or 8-14", but what actually happened is that the snow alternated with ice and what we have now is a highly compact eight inches of heavy slushy stuff which the meteorologists say will freeze overnight and make travel tomorrow treacherous at least until it melts back to slush. I saw a stray cat walking across the back yard on top of the snow, and wouldn't you know, even twenty-pound Gladys could walk on top of it when we ventured out in the afternoon. Here's the proof:

It's as if she walked through a layer of thick dust.

I wanted to feed the birds, so Fred, Gladys, and I walked outside after watching a documentary about the Vikings. We felt adventurous. The birds got fed although the feeders had ice and snow in them and we couldn't get it all out.

We couldn't see it from inside, but tiny ice pellets were shooting out of the sky still. We didn't mean to linger long, but I wanted to shoot some photos and try out my new red boots, and Fred wanted to dig a canal next to the curb so that the melting slush can drain down into the rain grate which happens to be in front of my house. Gladys was in no hurry to go inside (she has that double coat from her ancestors' days on the Shetland Islands where Vikings explored) and seems to be suggesting a backyard picnic.

The red boots worked, and I was glad to finally have the chance to test them out. I think I bought them back in the fall. I ALWAYS wanted a pair of these:

I took some snowy photos...

A corner of Spring Lake (Hamilton-Trenton Marsh) and Sturgeon Lake beyond (from my back yard)

Another view of the frozen Marsh

And one more (this was a big reason why I bought this house 23 years ago.)

There have been some casualties:

Daffodil cadavers (I wish I would have thought to cut these before the cold weather returned.)

And then there's the pussy willow tree I grew from a stick that a lady gave me years ago at the public library. This tree is a source of pride for me and even made it into one of my essays because it looks like Hawthorne fairy trees I saw in Connemara, Ireland. And it happens to be in my Fairy Garden. Coincidentally. Or not.

That Bridge I Like So Much

It used to be the Reading Railroad Bridge, but now it is maintained by the CSX Corporation (freight trains) and is used by CSX, Amtrak, and SEPTA's West Trenton commuter line. It connects Yardley, PA, with Ewing, NJ. I pass it every day on the way to work, and it looks spectacular in early morning light. It looks attractive in twilight on the way home from work, too.

The problem is there are not any places to pull over to take a picture from the New Jersey side (Route 29) that I travel daily. There is a hiking path next to the river, but no access to it except from quite a bit north or south. I wouldn't be able to get a good shot without some hiking or biking.

The Pennsylvania side had to be explored. After the "Nemo" Nor'Easter dropped about four inches of snow on us, we traveled up Route 32, also known as the River Road, looking for a convenient pull-off from which to get a good shot. There were none, at least visible in the snow. We parked at a park,

hiked across the street, and carefully climbed down through the trees, vines, and brush to the riverbank.

Margie climbing; photo by Fred

This method won't be possible when there's normal traffic or once the brush fills in (I don't take traffic or poison-ivy risks), but I got some good shots today.

We walked up to the bridge and stood under it as if to make its acquaintance. I am fond of this bridge because it looks like an ancient Roman viaduct to me. It is 1445.5 feet long and has fourteen (14!) arches. The first and last arches go over Route 29 in New Jersey and Route 32 in Pennsylvania.

Beside my CSX Roman Viaduct Bridge are some masonry piers I wondered about. These, as it turns out, supported the older, 1875 wrought-iron Yardley Centennial Bridge.

Piers from the Yardley Centennial Bridge

This bridge, the West Trenton Railroad Bridge, the Reading Railroad bridge, was begun in 1911 and finished in 1913. Wait! My bridge is 100 years old this year! I'm glad I noticed it. I found out some other interesting facts about the bridge, but I'm saving those and my future shots for the eventual photo-essay.....

Margie shooting; photo by Fred.

 

In which Margaret survives for three days without electricity in a blizzard

I drove to North Cape May ahead of the storm, on purpose, because it is so unusual for that area to get more than a few inches. I have rarely seen shovelable snow there, and I have known this house since before I was born. As this was a last-minute adventure decision, I didn't take much time to think about what I might need, but I tossed some extra candles, a candle lighter, warm sweatshirts and socks and easily-prepared food and baked goods into the car. I packed for Gladys the Sheltie, too, since she would be my blizzard partner. She had plenty of toys, food, treats and her little jacket that we call her barka.

The snow started right on schedule, and we watched in awe as it quickly covered the lawn and streets. The lights went out around 4:00 on Saturday. Snow was sticking to the window screens blocking any light from outside, and eventually it stuck to the window glass. In order to see what was going on out there, I had to open the door and peer out. Even with all the white snow it was incredibly dark outside because the bright streetlights were out.

I managed to light the gas log in the fireplace (the first time) for some light and warm. This involves going into the basement to turn a certain stiff valve with pliers and then turning a switch on the side of the fireplace contraption to let the gas out and then lighting the gas with the candle lighter. For a person terribly squeamish around fire and flammable gas (I will not have a gas grill), this was quite a feat. The house got colder each day and the number of blankets making up our hearth-nest grew to about six. At one point Gladys even got under the covers with me.

Cooking was easier because even though I had to light the gas stove the same way as the gas log, it seemed less threatening. However, the kitchen, being in the middle of the house, got dark early. My clip-on LED light and strategically-placed candles could not illuminate well enough to cook or clean up. I left everything I might need out on the counter for the dark time. One afternoon I made Rachael Ray's Zuppa Ossa Bucco (minus anchovies). It was delicious. Leftovers went out on the front porch in my snow-packed cooler.

I never did conquer the challenge of digging out. I made some nice paths in the thirty-inch snow from the front and side doors to the sidewalk, and the neighbor, Kevin, snow-blew the sidewalk. This made a great tunnel for Gladys to get some exercise (we call it the Glunnel).

It turned out very few people in the neighborhood bothered with sidewalks as digging out of cars was more of a priority for most. My car was parked on the street because we don't have a driveway at that house. Plows went by frequently and each time threw more boulders of icy snow into the snow fortification that separated my car from the icy street.
Over two days, I managed to clear a path to each car door

with the plan of clearing the snow away from the exhaust pipes on the third day. this way I could start up the car and sit in it for awhile with Gladys to take advantage of the heated air and seats.

I never got to this as Fred came down with a rescue generator and dug out my car as the house warmed. We were more worried about the house's pipes freezing than Gladys and me. The house had gotten down to the mid-forties--it lost about ten degrees each day. Gladys and I were warm as long as we stayed in our hearth-nest with a book.

I wore layers covered by the fuzzy blue (think Cookie Monster) robe Jeanne sent me for Christmas. That thing was blessedly warm, and sorry, but there are no photos of that. The borrowed generator brought the house heat back up to comfortable and gave me some electricity to charge my laptop, netbook and iPhone. I had sacrificed the laptop and netbook battery power to charge the iPhone, and was now down to nothing.

The next storm on Wednesday, the one that would turn out to be Snowmageddon for Central Jersey, would only blanket Cape May with (only!) six to twelve inches. The generator was going back to Central Jersey and I was preparing to break the news to Gladys that we were going to brave this one, too, when power was restored. I never packed up so fast--got back to Hamilton in time for Snowmageddon II: Central Jersey. Before heading north, though, we went south just a bit to shoot photos of Cape May City in the snow: