Snowblind

Down here, where we're at
The weather changes, that's the way it goes
Sometimes it snows, when everything's wrong
Sometimes it snows, but when it does, it doesn't last long
-Uncle Tupelo, "Screen Door"

Lots of Uncle Tupelo for me lately, and this song feels especially poignant with this massive storm we're having, coming after weeks of unseasonably warm weather (two weeks ago it was about 65). Except this snow seems like it will last forever - it began at about 4 p.m. and shows no signs of letting up. It's thick, mixed with ice and sleet. Good snowball fight snow, if I had anyone to exchange volleys with.

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Lots of Tupelo, to be sure (they're St. Louis' greatest musical export after Chuck Berry, and even though they're from the Illinois side of the river I can now identify the places they mention in their songs), but also lots of Animal Collective. The new album has songs titled "In The Flowers" and "Summertime Clothes," but to my ears there's no better wintertime album.

It's positively ethereal, haunting and comforting at the same time. I listened to it as I spent 15 minutes attempting to drive out of the parking lot of the newspaper office. See, everything in these Ozark towns is built on hills. Either that, or the roads are on the hills and the homes and businesses are sort of sunken in around them. Makes for scenic driving in peak conditions, but that also means that its nigh impossible to go anywhere when it snows. I had a bear of a time getting up one of those steep inclines, as our office in St. Robert is thusly sunken in. I got out, but it took me forever because I could only really turn left.

***

I gave a woman a ride home. She was walking, as she usually does, but she said "It's kind of stupid to do it in the winter, I guess."

Ya think?

When I saw her she was in the middle of Old Route 66 in St. Robert, bundled up in sweats, a hoodie and a parka. I almost hesitated but she looked harmless enough. She was. We talked about how people don't know how to drive in the snow around here because all the soldiers come from Texas and Georgia. Then some guy in front of us, with Florida plates (naturally), fishtailed as he was going around the giant hill that divides Waynesville and St. Bob (the same one where the frog resides). We chuckled.

She told me that before I got her the police stopped her once and told her to get off the road and walk on the sidewalk to be safe.

"I told them that I thought I was still on the sidewalk. You couldn't tell what was what."

While they were talking, a snowplow whizzed passed them. She got blasted. The officer, still in the car, did not. They didn't offer her a ride.