AS UN-MINNESOTAN as this may sound, I don’t particularly like winter. I’d grown rather fond of the unusual 50-degree temps earlier this month and a landscape free of snow.
Yet I knew better than to get all smug about the weather, realizing that, at any time, the proverbial shoe (or boot) would drop.
It did, with temperatures plummeting to below and barely above zero followed by two measurable snowfalls within the past several days.
Snow means work, aka shoveling snow.
Snow means walking with trepidation.
I wasn’t always fearful of walking across snowy or icy sidewalks, driveways or parking lots. But then 3 ½ years ago I had total right hip replacement surgery because of severe osteoarthritis.
I would like to keep that expensive ceramic implant intact for another 17 years. So I tread with caution, eyes locked on whatever slick surface I must traverse. I will myself not to fall. Thus far, the strategy has worked to keep me upright and out of the hospital.
Despite my winter worries, I still shovel snow. However, I questioned the sanity of that effort on Monday as I crunched my way across the ice-glazed, snowy yard toward the sidewalk encrusted in snow and ice.
I didn’t exactly rush my way through snow removal. More like half-skated.
By the time I finished clearing the sidewalk and the end of the driveway, I truly wanted to give up and leave the rest for the husband or the 17-year-old. But winter wasn’t about to defeat me.
I may not like her, but I sure as heck won’t allow her to get the best of me.
© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling