Mistakes!

By Jack Elliott
Contributor

In early March I made a mistake. I freely admit it. Just one you say! Yes a major one- I came home from Florida.
As we hit northern Illinois and then Wisconsin, the growing unease in the pit of my stomach was not the flu. It was all that white stuff.
As we pulled through Customs in Rainy, the agent looked at me and muttered something about my lack of sanity.
Finding the house confirmed his opinion. Fortunately our house is two-story so rather than having to dig a tunnel into the door, we just walked over the snow bank and crawled in through the upstairs window.
It only took my neighbour, Clarence an hour with a giant front end loader to clear a path to the garage. The biggest problem was finding a place to pile it.
We settled in prepared to grin and bear it. After all it was bound to warm up in a couple of days and a brisk walk down the snow tunnels would get my bloated body acclimatized and back in shape. That was three weeks ago. What a disappointment.
So here I sit. housebound. The last blizzard has beaten down my final reserves of strength. I swear I see ghostly packs of ravenous wolves cruising along the river ice looking for stragglers returning from their ice fishing shacks after a fruitless day of trying to snag a wily walleye.
And I’m not alone. At the St. Pat’s Supper last week, depressed residents staggered in with winter haunted faces reminiscent of the Donner Party. I think they were eying each other up as candidates for the soup pot. If this hangs on much longer can cannibalism be far off. Which would taste better, a catholic or a protestant?
And then it snowed again. Clarence had made a break for Lost Wages so wasn’t around to rescue me. I managed to get out of the lane by ramming back and forth through the drifts, but there was no way I was going to get back in. In fact if I’d had a couple of week’s supply of meds on me it is doubtful I would have even come back across the border after that quick run to Baudette.
But I did. The town crew bless their soul was out in force clearing the streets. And across the road was a Good Samaritan, Clint Jenson, who answered my pleas and plowed my drive. Clint you probably saved me from a coronary and although you have my thanks, you may have earned the enmity of all those I regularly take aim at in my column. The Pearl is undecided.
So with the end of March here, do we get another blizzard or will the sun shine. Only to be followed by a great sucking sound as all that snow fills the basements and flushes out the ditches and all those skunks hibernating in the culverts.
Ah spring at last I hope!