211128 A snowy ditch, CAA, a coat.
nov. 28
Snow, and a blue sky this morning. The plow guy even came before we arrived yesterday.
*****
Yesterday:
We went in the ditch. Drove home from Toronto, left early to be sure and arrive in the daylight; the traffic was light and the drive was uneventful until we stopped to check the mailbox on the road. K pulled over onto the verge and went past the edge of the road - the snow, several inches have fallen here, had been plowed across the edge of the ditch and hid it. We were caught in the snow on the steep slope of the ditch, which is about five feet down. The car came to a stop but we couldn't recover safe traction back onto the road and the car teetered as if it might tip over at any moment. Foresters are know to be high and tippy. We didn't know that before we purchased it, though we love it still. I crawled out the driver's side after K, not to get stuck in the ditch and perhaps have the car come over on me, and we pulled our winter coats out of the back seat. The wind blew harsh across the open pasture, carrying the fresh falling snow into our faces. My cell phone shut itself off and refused to work in the cold, so we walked on up the road to the chicken lady's farm. She welcomed us in and I called CAA.
Let me tell you about CAA, (Canadian Automobile Association). It takes best marks for excellence in business. For a very small and very reasonable fee, they provide roadside and at-home service for your car. They have rescued me out of flat tires, breakdowns and lock-outs more often than I can count. (Tamar - when she was at the north campus - must have locked her keys in her car a dozen times. I finally added her to my card so I wouldn't have to drive up there every time.) . They are prompt (really prompt) , even here in the wilderness in the middle of a snowstorm, we waited less than an hour for the truck. Then here they come in a huge fuck-off flat-bed tow truck, hook a line up to the back of the car and out of the ditch she comes. The work of minutes. The driver is dressed all in orange, but is not wearing a hat or scarf; he's freezing, but he just does the work and laughs while we talk. His sidekick, perhaps his friend along for company or he's half of a team, for safety or extra hands, stands by in a hoodie. These CAA people are angels, flying in to rescue you wherever you are, 24/7. I love them. Every one has been polite, friendly, understanding and kind. That goes for the people on the phone too - they are attentive, knowledgeable and confident. Today was the longest I have ever been on hold - three minutes while the Toronto operator switched me to the Quebec people. They have never not given me the help I needed. One time my mother-in-law and I were stranded on a long curve of highway off-ramp, on route to Stratford, Ontario - the tow truck found us in no time and we climbed (on Cameron's part, at least, a new and startling experience) into the high cab beside the seasoned pepper-haired driver and were delivered, first to the garage in Stratford, and then to our hotel. In the summer of 2019, when I came to Mansonville to visit Rain on my own. I went to CAA's East Mall office and was provided with, without cost, being a member, train and rental car reservations, and a map for my drive from Montreal to the Estrie. I like to imagine a world in which every business was as excellent as CAA. I just learned that CAA is a non-profit organization! I went looking for the words that form the acronym. **
So out of the ditch, the car still worked and we piled in and came the last five hundred metres to the vineyard. (The sun had just set - K said the sunset was beautiful, but I was walking from the farmhouse to meet up with the tow truck and K, and didn't think of looking.) Unpacked the car, left everything in a heap and I put some dinner on. K had already come up the hill and put on a pot of coffee so I sat down with a fresh hot cup and heaved a happy sigh. A good adventure, now that it's safely over, and we learned a few things. We learned that we were smart to have winter wear and boots in the car; even though we left in autumn, we have returned to winter. We learned that you can't always stay in the car when you've gotten stuck by the road! Our emergency kit, which we had with us, having practiced such safety measures since living in Alberta in the 80's, was supplied with food, water, and candles for warmth, plus a flashlight, matches, and blankets. But until today, I had assumed that we would be able to stay IN the car. Here we were, having to escape the tipping-over car and lucky to be a few hundred yards from the farmhouse. If we'd been in the middle of nowhere... And the cellphone - I remembered Tamar telling me that they don't like the cold; it can even damage the battery - so I tucked it back in an inside pocket and off we went to Chicken Lady's house, and I thought about these new considerations for our emergency plans. The wind across the open field was bitter, bitter, though the temperature was only minus six.
I bought a coat; I suppose it was in the fall or winter of 2019-20, b.c. (before covid) and before quebec. (Not a topic leap - this relates.) It was put away, and I didn't see it again until this week, when I was excavating winter-wear storage places. It is a Talbot's camel hair (not really camel hair, is it?!) (but not a real green dress. * ) almost full length, and I discovered today that it is very warm though I confess I had a shawl and a hat on too. I know, Talbot's is hardly Fifth Avenue, but it is out of my price range at the very least, and its clothes are well-made, though usually not my style. Of course the coat was second-hand; I can count on one hand the new coats I have had in the past thirty years. But I had no memory of having bought it, nor of its existence; it was like a gift from my past self. I only discovered it yesterday; it is in such good nick, with all its buttons on and excellent deep pockets, size large for wearing layers under and going all the way to my boots. So when we went in the ditch, I climbed out of the driver's side door and was able to get K's coat and this camel coat from the back seat - all the emergency stuff was in the back seat for easy access, a good decision as it happened. I might have paid as much as twenty dollars for the coat, at Value Village or a church sale. (Were there church sales in the fall of 2019? Was that only two years ago? It seems much longer.) and today it paid for itself by keeping me warm for that long walk, long for me and my walking stick at least. I felt happy walking along that windy road in the snow; I was grateful for my coat, I was warm and, now that we were safe, we were on a good adventure in my favorite place.
*****
Oh, I am happy to be here. I put a frozen quiche to bake and heated beans and canned artichoke hearts. I brought a few sticks of wood into the mud room, but I didn't unpack a thing, and soon we sat down to dinner, warm, while the wind whistled in the blackness out the windows - it looks in, the darkness, because we have no window coverings. But we like it. The windows and the darkness.
*****
We were only in Toronto for a week, and saw almost no-one. We were just there to get our snow tires on and pick up a few things. I apologize to many dear friends for not calling, for not visiting. Between covid and my illness, I didn't fit in much socializing. And now we are in Quebec for another year. Even before the vineyard, though, I didn't seem to have or make time for friends who had moved even a little distance from our immediate neighbourhood, nor others with whom we lost touch just because of busy lives, children and jobs. I stopped the Christmas card thing a few years ago, of sending to friends whom I didn't see anymore, just to say I still remembered them. It seemed so futile and perhaps meaningless. But I joined Facebook in 2020 and I like seeing the posts of people from every decade of my life, and every corner. It is not a perfect medium, but for the friendly part, I am happy to be part of it. We were so busy for so many years, with work and children and ageing parents. I didn't know if we'd ever connect again. Perhaps I should resurrect the holiday card tradition. All the people on my list were important to me even though the regular connection was not there any more. Some of them are part of the fabric of my story and, catching up with each other's lives, it can feel like we just spoke last week! I have come out the other side of decades to find that I care about these friends. We can't all live in the same small village. But I won't let go. We are where we are in our disparate lives, but we can call each other friends.. Small, or distant, that connection is nevertheless a nice thing. Sugar in one's coffee.
*****
Keep well. Listen to the word: pandemic. We can wait. Generations have waited months and years while wars raged, floods abated, epidemics spread. We can be safe, embrace that. The holidays are coming and quietly and gratefully are ways to celebrate. Spend less, make cookies and listen to music. And sing. Thank you for visiting. Take away what fits, leave what doesn't. We are each on our own journey.
Mumma Yaga
I apologize for technical problems with this blog, which I don't know how to fix. Can't find "Pages" and the subscribe tag. Will call tech support, son-in-law.
Why does it seem like this is my first morning ever seeing this view? I can see the line of wind turbines along the top of the farthest mountain range.
* The Bare-Naked Ladies, If I Had a Million Dollars.
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