Adventures in a wintry wonderland
March 2025
by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
I am so very glad March is here. It means I can go for my walk on the lane again.
It’s been too cold and icy to venture for much other than to scurry to the car and then make a 32-point turn to head down the driveway. I decided sometime in January that I could “at least” walk down the driveway to get my mail. I recently lost quite a bit of weight, but here’s what I learned: it is much easier putting pounds back on again than losing them in the first place.
Heavy snow arrived in early January. It was beautiful, and I reveled in it. That is, until I ventured out to shovel my steps and create a path to the car. It was possibly the heaviest snow I’ve ever experienced. I carved a narrow path down to the car and le the rest piled high on the sides. As I shoveled, my brain screamed: “You fool! You just had two heart surgeries! What are you thinking?”
The piles of snow never began to melt. They just became iced over, so much so that I could walk atop them and barely break through, even with my new extra pounds.
So, one bright sunny 15-degree day, I decided to walk down and get the mail. It was a big mistake.
You know how I often talk about the importance of carrying your cellphone when you go for a walk? Well, that day, for some reason, I forgot it. Sure enough, halfway through, I slipped on ice and fell flat on my backside. That backside was soon frozen in no time.
I knew it would hurt like the dickens, but I got to my knees. Or what passes for “knees” now that they’re titanium. I have no more kneecaps. It’s pretty difficult to maneuver.
But there was no “purchase” on the ice. Not a single bare spot to put my foot down and get some leverage. I was stuck, flat out, in my driveway. I reached for my phone. My pocket was empty. What a fool!
I hoped someone driving down the busy highway would glance up and see a colorful heap — that would be me — crumpled in the driveway and come to help. But no. So, I started hollering, “Help! Help me, please!” This is the second time I’ve had to do that in several months. And just as many helpers seemed to hear me: none.
My neighbor, who often helps me out of tough spots, was down in his house. I could see his truck. But I also know he’s a little hard of hearing. Would he hear my plea? Probably not.
Turns out, he did hear something. Something he later told me he thought was a crow cawing.
As I lay there in the icy freeze, I could see his truck. And … yes! He came outside and walked to it. I yelled even louder. He got in the truck! He then drove away, out to the highway. Ack!
But then, salvation. His truck turned up my driveway! Here’s the thing: He couldn’t get me up. There truly was nothing to get a grip on in order to stand up.
Luckily, he had a cellphone in his car. I used it to call 911 and ask for a deputy to come haul me up. One arrived in short order. And then two more soon after. It was apparently a slow crime day. Between the three of them, they managed the hauling task of getting me to my feet. They then escorted me to my porch.
While I babbled my thanks to them, one said, “Some women will do anything to get three strong, handsome men to her house!” Well, he’s got that right.
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