In case you were wondering, my husband can say with some certainty that 4:30 in the morning is too early to shovel the driveway only to get stuck on our road a mere three houses down. After stopping to dig the neighbour's truck out of the road, he took a short break to walk back into our house at 6:30 a.m. to ask me again: "Why do people live here?"
Well here's the thing, William. We live a little ways up the hart highway where the people are friendly and the snow is intense. Our neighbour Matt (with his giant snow plow) will be getting an extra special bottle of rye for Christmas this year after helping us plow our driveway and half the road on Thursday morning. Thank you, neighbour. You are an excellent person and I hope Santa is good to you.
There is nothing that helps neighbourly bonding more than an obscene amount of snow. The snow is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter what a person does for a living, what they do in their spare time, who their friends are because during a grotesque snowfall, we are all the same. We all look out the window and say: "Seriously?!"
When I was talking to my mother-in-law about the snow earlier in the week, she was quick to say "I know! The snow is horrible. It snowed here too." My mother-in-law lives in Surrey. I don't think that people on the lower mainland have any idea what three feet of snow in two days looks like. Now as I've mentioned before, my husband and I lived in Victoria for eight years and we have seen some intense snowfalls (for the Island) during our time there. The snow on the Island is different than it is here. The snow is so wet that shovelling with our little plastic shovel I brought from Prince George was like trying to push a wet sack of kittens across the driveway. It was tough (for the Island). Our shovel was also borrowed by more than a few Victorian neighbours who were appropriately grateful.
Though the snow is fabulous for getting to know your neighbours, for skiing and for doing an assortment of snow-related activities, it sucks for trying to convince your city-bred husband to continue to live in Prince George after he spent the wee hours of the morning frolicking with a shovel. After realizing that we were going to be trapped in the house with two small children for a few days (we're on the low priority list for the plows), I volunteered to walk to the gas station to pick up some baking necessities. At the very least, there will be some fresh-baked Christmas treats at our house for a few days to counteract the cabin fever. Treats and maybe some Bailey's in my husband's coffee in the morning.
