Black Gloves

In the autumn when the leaves were golden and it seems as though time will drift along from one Indian summer to the next, that is the time when Wyona and I ran across winter gloves at Costco – black, one-thumbed, the main body of the glove black and gathered into a pouch for maximum warmth. Ugly.

I don’t like gloves like these – they are hard to drive a car in, and hard to warm around a snow shovel. In fact, I had forgotten that I had purchased them until this week’s storm of the year: cold and snow falling for 2 days. There was no choice but to shovel every 3 or 4 hours. And the gloves now became my first choice of wearing apparel when I went outside.

We have a neighbour who not only shovels his walk, but he sweeps it as well. That is just one more step than I want to do. Richard feels the same way. But I noticed today that a big half ton truck had parked close to my curb and pushed snow back onto the sidewalk that had been so difficult to clear. That is the point when I knew why the guy who sweeps the sidewalk is sometimes irritated when people drive over the walk in front of his house.

I didn’t drive one of the snow days. I took the bus. On the way home from the ophthalmologist the bus got stuck. The driver wasn’t even at a bus stop. At the light he had just come too close to the four foot bank of snow at the side of the road, and when he went to start the bus, it wouldn’t move. “That is the first time I have ever been on a bus that was stuck in the snow,” one of the passengers said on alighting and heading off to the next bus stop. “Same for me,” said the driver.

Buses nowadays can go down to the sidewalk to pick up people who can’t make the big steps onto the bus. The driver had to help me off into three feet of snow. No use letting the bus down. That would be no help for me. Hard for me not to be entertained.

Glad I had my ugly gloves with me.

Arta