Storm-stayed at Falling Downs

Old Man Winter has been giving us one hell of a pounding here at Falling Downs. Roads are closed. Schools are closed. Damned near everything is closed.

We're generally well fixed for an extended stay around here, with one exception. The Farm Manager enjoys a bottle of red wine once in awhile. For a time we toyed with making it at one of those make-your-own-wine joints. You go and mix your ingredients and a few weeks later you go and bottle the results, and voila, you've got 30 liters of wine in your basement, or "wine cellar" if you must.

That's the problem of course. Having thirty bottles of wine in the house is not conducive to moderation. Pretty soon you're pouring it on your granola.

Ran into the same problem when I bought a five gallon pail of refosco from my Italian brother in law. The price was right, the wine was fine, but you're a little embarrassed to buy another five gallon pail two weeks later.

So when the storm moved in the Farm Manager had exactly one 750 ml bottle of red in the wine cupboard, and three days later she was getting a little cranky.

Dire straights demand extreme solutions, so it was decided on the morning of the fourth day that I would snow-shoe into town to get supplies. The roads and the schools are closed, but the liquor store is open. Armed with nothing more than my new-fangled aluminum snow-shoes, a goose-down parka, and my debit card, I set out at eight o'clock yesterday morning.

Oh, the things you do for love!

I figured on about a three hour trek into town and another three back. That's six hours of trekking in the teeth of a blizzard. That's a tall order for a man my age.

Set off cross country. No point following the roads when they're closed. That took me right across Willard MacMillan's front yard about fifteen minutes into my trek, and lo and behold, there's MacMillan's kids racing around the yard on an old Arctic Cat!

My God, why didn't I think of that before!

Young Josh MacMillan was pleased as can be to pocket the twenty bucks I gave him to borrow his sled for a half hour.

That really enhanced my cargo capacity too. I was able to transport an entire two-four of Coors Light tallboys in addition to that box of wine for the Farm Manager.

Unfortunately, the Farm Manager wasn't expecting me home for another five hours, and I was reluctant to see such a major brownie point score go up in flames...

So me and Willard worked our way through most of the two-four. Hell of a guy, that Willard. Served in the army for a spell. Couldn't take it. Told me lots of stories...

But that's another story.