A measure of excessive caution borne of being stuck at the bottom of my drive one too many times, a sense of the already slick spots on my drive, and an obligation or two late in the week prompted me to move the car to its snowplace, as I think of it -- a spot beside the road at the top of the hill.
There, the car may well be stuck if it snows deeply enough (it won't, this time), but whatever weather comes, the car and I won't be fighting gravity as well as slickness. I will have to walk up the hill to be able to drive out it, but I don't mind that.
Even less do I mind walking back down, either on the drive if carrying groceries and other things, or, as today, unburdened, down through the woods.
The clouds were already thickening — with rain, mostly, I believe — and the shadows in the forest were twilight-thick at three in the afternoon. Fine by me. I was in no hurry, there was enough light for me (if not my aging camera), and the shadows reminded me to take even more time. I lingered and loitered a bit, looking at favorite trees and rocks, smiling at the deerpaths I saw.
Emerging finally at the edge of the meadow, I stopped for awhile to look at the farm beneath the clouds. They still didn't look like snowclouds, but I still didn't regret moving the car any more than I had ever really regretted moving the now motionless truck, whose rearwheel drive had more trouble with a snowy drive than the frontwheel-driven Geo.
Neither vehicle, though, is as reliable in winter weather — or the possibility of it — as my feet.
And neither can take me through the woods.
I believe it did snow most of the day here, but it also evaporated during its descent from the sky (more common of an occurrence than one might think). Tomorrow may be a different story. Regardless, Planson and I head to Daytona tomorrow night to reconnect with the 24-hour endurance race after an 8 year hiatus. I'll see if Florida is wireless, connected and operating in the 21st century.