My view does a lot to relieve the onset of cabin fever — or maybe I’m just easy to please. Sitting here like a cat at the window, on my comfy ottoman, leaning against West Elm pillows plumped against the window, watching these two city snowplows that are stuck at the turn on Bow Street, the Bow Street in Cambridge Massachusetts, where we were just hit with over 20 inches of snow.
I have been wondering why they took so long to get here today, but heard Menino saying it’s tough organizing crews this morning ‘cuz they are having a hard time getting to work, too.
It looks like the front truck is inching his way out of a mess and the other truck is trying to put some sand down for him.
And now a mass of city trucks/police are arriving to help out. I’m counting 10 trucks and city vehicles,with one guy shoveling to get his plow past the turn. That car parked at the turn is now entirely buried.
Lots of flashing lights. Have noticed quite a few unmarked cars in this fair city this morning — I’m trying to remember what they look like for future reference (as in, from my rear view window, when I’m sailing down Summer Street).
Ah, the simple joys of life. Living here is like sitting in a sidewalk cafe and watching everyday life unfold. Just a few stories up in the air, removed, private but able to peek into other people’s dramas or routines, some shivering at the bus stop, heading to the square or their yoga class (but not today!), cops trying to make order out of chaos directing cars pushing madly to get into Market Basket before the storm. (Hmmm. Better take my push cart today and walk the chilly block…)
And me, standing on one foot on my yoga mat, looking first to Harvard Yard across the gingerbread roof tops to see the top third of Memorial Hall’s iconic colored slate roof and the tall spire of Memorial Chapel steeple, and then with one hop (don’t fall) eastward, fixing on Boston’s skyline from the Prudential to John Hancock,and occasionally noting (but not hearing;) the planes descending to Logan. OK, time to switch legs.
And in the evening, when I’m putting down (dumping) bags on the kitchen table, catching an amazing magenta sky out of the corner of my eye, or fiery sun dropping in slow-mo down the middle of Somerville Ave, I’m reminded again why I lugged those bags up four flights. Oops, better grab the camera fast before the ball drops and I’ve missed the shot of a lifetime.
And in the time it’s taken me to make these notes, and answer a few phone calls, the street has cleared and a fleet of city trucks are inching westward to Porter Square, disappearing into the somewhat lessening fog of the Blizzard of 2013. And there, right under my nose, a couple of cross country skiers have decided to take advantage of these new trails — packed powder – conditions “excellent.”
