The long-anticipated January thaw has at last arrived in my neck of the woods. It was late this year, sliding in from it's “normal” appearance in the middle of January into the end of the first week of February. I know that I, my family and most of my friends were thankful to see it come, even if it was a bit late. There had been, what seemed to us, an extraordinarily long stretch of sub-freezing days with lots of snow in the weeks and weeks before this thaw. Even a lot of days of below-zero wind chills and actual temperatures in the single digits for significant stretches of time. The kind of temperatures that make your nose hairs freeze when you breath and make your old cars wheeze and groan when you call upon them to take you somewhere.
Of course, during those snowy, windy days my “trusty” snowblower had decided it didn't want to run.
Lemme tell you the story about the old Toro sitting in my garage.
I had an older Toro quite a few years ago that I'd originally bought new which had totally given up the ghost. I was cleaning the garage one day and had noticed it hanging on the wall. So I had placed it on the curb on trash pickup day where either the trash collectors or some mechanically-inclined neighbor had picked it up. I hadn't needed a blower for a number of years as we had been scant on snowfall for quite a while in those days and figured I probably wouldn't need another one for a while.
Of course, the mere fact of tossing your snowblower away positively guaranteed that the next winter would be snowy. And, of course that's what occurred. You could have made book on that.
I survived that winter using only a shovel and it was miserable. The following spring I passed on the word to anyone who would listen that I was in the market for a snowblower sometime before the next winter. I really didn't want to buy new. First, because new snowblowers are doggone expensive. And secondly because I don't have that much territory that needs cleared when it snows. So lo and behold, a dear friend of mine showed up one day with a snowblower for me! He'd found it on a curb somewhere up near where he lived and he “rescued” it. He's got magic in his fingers as far as fixing things and he had checked it out and made sure that it ran. He'd also done a few things to it to keep it running. He warned me that the machine was an electric start, but that function was broken – probably the reason why it was originally pitched. He told me that the pull cord still worked, so it was usable, and that I could take it to a shop and they could fix the electric start. I thanked him profusely, said that I would just pull the cord when I needed to use it and not worry about the electric start. I hung the “new” machine on my garage wall in anticipation of the next snowfall.
I used that blower for the next year or two and it worked... kind of. It was a bit weak in power and was reluctant to start. And it took a LOT of pulls to make it go. I wasn't real satisfied, so I took it to a small engine repair shop a year ago and had them give it an overhaul. After that it worked marginally better but I was still unsatisfied.
That brings us to this winter.
After the first heavy snowfall I pulled the machine off the wall, added some gas/oil mixture (it's a 2-cycle) and commenced pulling. After a large number of jerks I found myself winded and tuckered out and looking at a dead snowblower. I've recently had to accept that I've gotten somewhat older over the years and pulling on a recalcitrant snowblower cord in the bitter cold probably wasn't doing me any good. I had visions of me dropping over with a coronary and not being found for hours and hours. So I packed old Betsy up and took her to another small engine repair shop, this one specializing in Toros, and instructed them to add the electric start piece and to tune 'er up again. I explained the machine's history and they assured me they could get it running like new.
To make this long story shorter, the repair to the snowblower and the new tune up really brought the ol' girl back to life! She's got plenty of zip and starting her is a breeze now. Just plug in an extension cord, couple pumps on the primer bulb, pull out the choke and hit the start button. Shazam! She cranks and sputters, then starts to roar. Then unplug her and we're off to the races! Huzzahs! I'm back in business!
Naturally, you could count the days on one hand between the fixing of my old snowblower and the beginning of the “January” thaw. I guess it's like washing your car knowing that will usually bring rain. So fixing a snowblower will bring a thaw? Guess so.
The good parts of a thaw, even a late one like we're experiencing now are: warmer temperatures to do some chores outside you've been putting off while the thermometer was in the basement, less fuel used to warm your house, bidding farewell to the icky, dirty snow and a chance to wash your heavy winter coat and put on something slightly less heavy for a couple of days. The bad parts of a thaw: seeing the dirty white snow disappear and being left with dirty brown mud and rising water in all the rivers and streams, the obvious need to wash the salt off your vehicles, the suddenly bare side yard where the dogs do their duty (yechhh) and the depressing realization that this is just a respite, and the snow, ice and cold weather will return before you know it. Our local forecast has already imparted this knowledge by informing us that we'll be returning to more “seasonal” weather ( translate that to cold, ice, snow) within a day or two. After high winds and possible thunderstorms in between.
Lovely.
But it is nice to realize that we are on the downward side of the hill now and that winter is eventually going to bid us adieu. The groundhog in Puxuntawney Pennsylvania, by seeing his shadow last week, told us we'll have six weeks more of winter. Hell, I didn't need a large, fat, bucktoothed rodent to tell me that. We live in northern Ohio and winter is often very reluctant to release it's grasp of us most years. We figure on seeing snow well into March most of the time and once in a while a touch in early April, too. But winter's back is mostly broken by mid-March, so we'll slog forward with that in mind.
We could have it worse. I don't mean Minnesota worse or Saskatchewan worse. I tip my hat to the people that live there. They experience winter with a capital “W”. Bitter cold, unending snow and howling winds. I was talking about just up the road right here in Ohio. My state is blessed with a great big lake to its north called Lake Erie. And that lake, along with the other Great Lakes, produces weather patterns that are unique to those areas adjacent and downwind from them. They're called “lake effect snows”. They occur when the lake is unfrozen and a westerly or northwesterly wind blows across it in the wintertime. The air picks up moisture from its fetch over the lake water, freezes it and dumps it on the land as snowfall. The local forecasters call ours the “Lake Erie Snow Machine”. The toughest hit counties are Lake, Geauga and Ashtabula in the northeast portion of the state where it snows almost every day. They get a LOT of snow. Feet upon feet of it.
Every winter.
I'm glad I live where I do. We get hammered by big snowfalls a couple times a year when the winds are south to southwest and bring the moisture up from the Gulf of Mexico. Those are what're called synoptic snows and they fall on most of the state. Those are the guys that give my hometown it's heavier winter blankets of the white stuff.
I hate to admit it but there are times when I do really enjoy the winter. (Don't tell anyone!) I work second shift and generally leave my workplace sometime between midnight and 12:30. My drive home is 25 miles in length on a state highway through mostly rural areas. If it had snowed that evening while I was at work I know my drive home will be a challenge some nights, demanding most nights but almost always beautiful. The traffic on that state highway is usually minimal during the wee hours of the morning and there are some nights when it's almost nonexistent. It's just you and the white-covered highway stretching away through the cornfields and pasture lands shining in the moonlight or veiled by softly falling snow. You steer your car in approximations – a little to the right, a smidge to the left, forward and onward toward home, your hands tight on the wheel. Your body listens intently to the language of the tires beneath you either rolling confidently or having the inconstancy of ice beneath their treads. You look out over the moonstruck fields and see the shine of the frosty snowcover as the lunar light makes it all ghostly and glittery and slick.
But mostly it's a chore, slogging through the miles, driving slowly and carefully to make sure you arrive home without making a detour into a ditch or a tree.
So winter's choke-hold on my part of the world was loosened a bit recently and for that I'm grateful. It was time for one to take a deep breath, relax a bit and gird your loins for the next onslaught that's bound to be just around the corner.
Please excuse me while I go and give ol' Betsy a pat on her red carapace and tell her we'll be back in business soon.
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