Feb 19, 2019 3 min read

I might have touched upon this in the past, but it bears repeating. It has been extremely rainy. Like, “Seattle used to be the rainiest place in America but now it’s Southwestern Pennsylvania” rainy. The ground literally can hold no more water. Hillsides are sprouting springs, and in some places, large sections are slipping down the hills, leaving wide gouges in the earth.

The extent of the wetness became obvious to me last week while I was trying to bring firewood into the house. It had rained overnight, but before dawn, the precipitation had changed over to snow. We had probably half an inch of coverage. Also, it was cold, so I presumed there would be a crust of frozenness on the earth. Still, I decided to carry by hand as opposed to using our side-by-side because I was concerned about sliding through the yard.

I walked down the sidewalk, up the driveway, and into the top of the barn, as this is where our firewood is stored. I gathered an armload of it and started toward the house

The shortest distance to the house is behind the garage and up the hill through the yard, so I went that way. Also, the armload was heavy, so the shortcut sounded really good to me.

Remember that crust I thought would be on the grass? I was wrong.

How the snow ever stuck to the ground instead of melting off, I do not understand. The ground beneath the snow was not only NOT frozen, it was also soupy. Water was splashing up about my legs. (Thankfully, I was wearing tall boots, so my pants didn’t get wet!)

I was slipping and sliding all over the place, even before I hit the hill. Carrying the firewood prevented me from waving my arms to counterbalance myself. I believe that had I been able to flap like a duck, my back would not have been tweaked, but alas, I was adamantly opposed to dropping the wood.

As I began the ascent – and this is not a steep hill, mind you – chunks of ground slid out from underneath my feet as I walked. I had to take two steps for every normal stride in order to move as fast as I needed to be moving to prevent falling.

Finally, I made it to the door. I dropped the load in the ring beside the stove. I decided to go back to the barn through the yard, but on a different path. I was thinking if I could avoid the hill, I might be OK.

Still wrong.

Even with no firewood in my arms, I slipped and slid. I also fulfilled the old adage that firewood warms you twice. By the time I arrived back at the barn for my second load, I was sweating. For the remaining loads that I carried, I took the long, safe road back down the driveway and up the sidewalk.

It turned out to be the easiest route.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@ verizon.net.