Blizzard

by Law Hamilton

Pelted, as I inhale razor blades.  

Who thought 0 degrees would be so cold? And that snowfall could hurt? But I am halfway there. The pack on my back is getting heavier. In the warm summer months, this walk would take 2 minutes. I dare not look at my iPhone to see how long it has been since I left the house. I have made the bend in the road, but with almost no visibility, I can no longer see the house. Am I halfway there?

The top of my boots reach the bottom of my knees and yet, the boots are taking on snow, packing it around my calves as I pull them up out of mid-thigh drifts onto pavement blown clean.  The winds are wild, moving four foot drifts in a blink of a footstep. A calculated risk is every step forward though this shifting snow. What seems like an hour later, I can hear the waves churning. High tide! The sound that originally called to me to make the journey…  Do I regret it?  Is it time to turn back?

I drop my head into my double gloved hands to temper the air in and out of my lungs hoping to add feeling back into my cheeks and eyes. Snow melts off of my eyelashes, as I wish the warmth of a fire into my fingers. I breathe. A few more steps and I am between the cottages that line the Atlantic. There is shelter and an reprieve from the wind and the the snow that has been falling from the sky in “flakes” as large as eggs.

Removing the pack from my shoulders to the ground, I’m surprised by the four inch layer of snow on top.  Hoping the electronics will work in the cold, this is their maiden voyage. Pulling the camera from the bag, lifting the strap over my head, and hoping the two zip lock bags will protect it from the precipitation. I arrive at the sea wall and sit on top of the snow near a fence post, using the railing as a tripod for the camera.  

Although it is high tide, I cannot see the ocean through the snow, but hear the roar of the wind and waves.  The auto focus on the camera is spastic and will not focus, although the shutter release fires occasionally.  My frozen fingers no longer feel the button for shooting.  Seven shots, I think, and the camera dies.  

Double layers of coats and gloves makes it hard to perform the fine motor movements necessary. I take off an outer layer ski glove. My hand reaches under my husband’s waterproof trench coat layered over my down coat and into the warm pocket, pulling out a lens cloth and a new battery. Fumbling fingers in a thin leather glove try to change the battery, and wipe the lens. I depress the shutter release, the electronics and my frozen fingers fighting my every move in the cold. The second battery dies - five, seven or more shots?  I don’t know. But there is one more battery to try, in the other pocket of my down coat. I load the third battery and hope that it works. Four more clicks and everything feels frozen. Time to go. Stowing the gear into the pack, I brush off two more inches of snow from my hat and shoulders, not knowing what may have been captured.

Hoisting the pack across my shoulders, I turn my back to the ocean and head home

Law Hamilton's "Blizzard" image may also be seen at:

http://arcworksart.org/