The term “snowed in,” after using it so lightly for untold years in Washington, D.C., has taken on its literal meaning now that we’ve experienced a major snowstorm here in the so-called sunny south.  Coastal North Carolina received 6.5″ of wondrous white in the previous 48 hours, and it wasn’t ready for it.

Today was the day to get moving after too many days of that good thing we all dream of:  a fire, good food and drink, and a favorite entertainment, be it a beloved movie on TV or a favorite singer coming through the speakers.  The path between the fireplace and the refrigerator becomes ever deeper as the weight of the snacks consumed is transferred from the fridge to our bodies.   Clothing other than the snuggly, loungey things we’ve been wearing to complete that homey picture seems foreign.  The sun, dazzling against the uninterrupted blanket of white, beckons us back to life.

The first thing I did was to take a broom and knock the heavy snow off the young pines in the yard, hoping to help them stand upright once again.  Steve replenished all the bird seed, three feeders depleted in a day by our usual chickadee and woodpecker visitors plus an entire flock of red-wing black birds that have just discovered the free feast.  (One or two of these beauties are welcome, but this many will scare everybody else away, so we hope this is temporary, a result of the weather.)  Then we went for a walk on our street.

Our constitutional completed, we decided to load up the SUV with our ever-accumulating trash–our normal output plus the extra Christmas boxes and paper–and take it to the dump.  The two-mile trip there on Deep Creek Road was the first hint that we are in a place that officially Is Not Accustomed To This Weather.  Deep Creek Road, the only way out of here, has not seen even the glimmer of a plow.  (With all the farmers and their manly toys around here, you’d think otherwise, but maybe a plow is not a plow is not a plow.)  We got out to New Hope Road, an even more vital artery, carrying the entire population of Durant’s Neck out to US 17, and saw that it, too, was innocent of a plow blade.  Ditto Woodville Road, which takes that same population north to Elizabeth City.  And the dump was closed.

So here we are, socked back inside.  The car is still full of trash.  Tomorrow we have to take a 60-mile drive to Ahoskie so Steve can visit his pain specialist, all on heavily traveled but “back” roads, State-maintained, not part of the US Highway or Interstate system.  That should be interesting.  And we’re looking forward to visitors from DC for the New Years celebration.  They’re arriving Thursday and some shopping in Elizabeth City needs to be done.  This is the last day of indolence, voluntary or enforced.  Tomorrow real life resumes, ready or not, slippery roads, closed dump and all.