Snowed In

I’m supposed to be standing in a Smokey Mountain creek right now, a fly rod in my hand. Instead, I’m sitting here at home, gazing out of my window at a winter landscape, held at bay by snow-obscured, icy roadways. It’s Mother Nature's latest, and most desperate, effort to disrupt my fishing plans. I should be disappointed, but I'm really very happy to be home.

In the background I hear the governor on the radio telling everyone to stay off the roads. Around here that's easy as, right now, it's hard to even find the roads. I suspect that by the end of the day, the best clue to their location will be sled grooves, not tire tracks. It's one of the joys of living on an undeveloped ridge when the snow arrives.


Mary is down on the phone, talking with our neighbor Abby who wants to initiate a snowbound party for the evening. Roy and Caroline, just east of us, who I just bumped into sliding down the hill on their surf bogey boards, are talking up a games night at their house. When was the last time you played a board game? Greg, our local pianist and composer, just down the ridge, home today from far-flung concert halls, thinks a winter wonderland gathering around his baby grand, barely contained by his small cabin, sounds like a grand idea. (Pun entirely intended.) Everyone is inspired to be social. If we can't go anywhere, let's not go anywhere together.


Sure, I miss the stream today, but it looks like a delightful evening, and weekend, ahead. So I'll throw a couple more billets into the old Fisher, pull a comforter from the closet, and settle in for the afternoon with a good book.

Tonight, it's a party. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.