Babes Against the Elements

I’ve always thought that Canadians who head south for their winter vacation just don’t “get” the full majesty of our northern winters. But now I think they’re onto something. I did more snow shoveling in the last week than I’ve done in the past twenty years.
Case in point: when we arrived, the road to the farm had been plowed out, but a three-foot snow bank blocked the front door. It didn’t even occur to me to bring a shovel, so I had to improvise. I unloaded my art supplies onto the front seat of the car, and then Emma and I took turns using the container that held them to shovel a path to the front door. (And they say art isn’t practical!)
On Sunday night we ran out of heating oil, and a sweet man arrived to rescue us with a 10-gallon emergency top-up. To celebrate, my dad decided to make himself (and my mother) a martini, but there were no ice cubes, so I headed outside with the broom and broke off a large icicle for him. This probably wasn’t hygienic, but when you’re in the middle of nowhere, and the heat has just been restored, you tend to overlook things like that.
This wasn’t a roughing-it-in-the-bush vacation though. The farm was very comfortable. We read, talked, watched movies and ate too much. Emma and I managed to get some work done, and both of us enjoyed spending time with my parents. Who knows when we’ll get the chance to do this again?