Lynn's Snow-capades: Snowmageddon 2023, the Finale (Part 1 of 2)

Snowed in Feb 22, officially busted out March 19th

The most exciting news is that after nearly a month of lockdown at the ‘Igloo Pokey’, I was finally busted out of my snow prison by a wonderful young man with his big boy Tonka truck. Yippee!

But before I tell you that story, like the last update, there are a few interesting snippets and angel-like happenings that led up to my long overdue emancipation. So here we go:

Last post, I reported the good news that after 11 days of going without electricity, my power was finally restored. Since then (I must confess) the majority of my time was spent voraciously indulging in all things electricity-oriented. Like a starved and ravenous wild-child who had just emerged from her primitive wilderness existence to discover the many luxuries of modern technology, I went a little crazy. I immediately turned on every light in the house, let the fire go out (in lieu of the blasting heat now emanating from my wondrous electric heat dish) and binge-watched far too much TV!

Considering the bad karma of such an energy-sucking footprint, however, I promptly corrected my pendulum over-swing behavior and returned to a more balanced existence. But even with the electricity back on, at this point in my adventure, I was still snowed-in…with no running water. And snow falling. And more falling snow predicted.

So, in order to keep trudging along through it all, I continued to work on my attitude -working arduously to keep my thoughts right and my perspective positive. It was a daily practice of acceptance and surrender, while endeavoring to muster the mental dexterity to endure even more storms while (patiently?) awaiting the eventual breakout from my not-so-chosen hermitage. The notable change in my peace of mind indicated to me I may have even gleaned a few handy pearls of wisdom along the way. Or perhaps it was simply the return of all things electrical that rebooted and realigned the mood department of my brain? Either way, my overall disposition had definitely improved.

Sure, I was still restless and eager to make contact with the human species. And even though the countless moments others were enjoying without me occasionally sent me into emotional waves of Fomo (look it up) patience did seem a little easier to come by in this second chapter of my wild winter adventure. In other words: no more toddler tantrums. No more stress around how much more snow could possibly keep falling from the sky. Or even if that snow would ever, ever, stop.

Clearly, not having to shovel a path to the woodshed as often, or maintain the sleep-interrupting around-the-clock stoking of the fire, or constantly babysitting the generator, fridge and freezer, or relentlessly searching for that ever elusive headlamp (like the mysterious disappearance of a TV remote seconds after it is set down) or having to plunge my numb feet into a steaming vat of stove-melted snow water on a regular basis just to bring life back into my poor frozen tootsies…yep…when it came to the perks of being back on the grid, removing those time-consuming tasks was clearly a game-changer. So…whether physical, mental, metaphysical…or all of the above…my quality of snowbound life was getting better by the day. Almost all the way up to Glamping (look it up) status!

Then, lo and behold…it began to rain! And rain is known to melt snow. And each inch of melted snow brought me that much closer to even consider the possibility that I might get to venture out again someday. Out from my property parameters and released into the big, bustling world of society and social interaction.

Up to this point, I hadn’t even been able to safely break trail by snowshoe. And when I say, ‘safely,’ I am referring to the depth and viscosity of the heaping mounds of pow-pow that had swallowed up my surroundings. It was one of those snow-packs where one foot forward might land me on the surface of the snow, the other might send me plummeting down to my hip into the slushy white abyss. And with no emergency services nearby, an ankle or leg-twisting injury was something I just wasn’t willing to risk.

Even though we were receiving hefty amounts of rain, it still took many more days and many more downpours to melt through the numerous feet of snow in my driveway. When a sufficient amount had melted and I felt safe enough to break trail and venture out by snowshoe, I cautiously made my way down the drive to do a little recon for fallen trees, as well as to check out the well pump. A few slips and slides on the way down, but thankfully, no ‘crash-landing-butt-falls’ were had.

You may remember that my well pump had died only a few days before the blizzards began -which put me in the rather compromised situation of having to significantly ration the remaining water left in the tank. And when the tank ran dry, I was then thrust into the full-time job of melting snow for all my water needs (except for my drinking water, which fortunately, I had previously stockpiled in abundance.)

And herein begins the ‘angel-help’ and unexplainable phenomenon part of this story:

Like before, there were quite a number of remarkable and not-so-coincidental occurrences that not only captured my attention, but my gratitude, as well. The two most significant of these occurrences had to do with water. Because you know…water is life.

First, a quick summary of how my water system works: The well pump does not run all the time. It is only turned on at the breaker where it pumps water many hundreds of feet up the hill to fill the 1500 gallon tank at the top. From there, gravity feeds the water down to my house. It is the only source of water to the house. So, when the tank runs out of water, there is no other supply coming in and subsequently, the faucets run dry. Until I turn the pump back on again and refill the tank. (As a habit, I typically try not to let the tank run totally dry –as that creates a whole other set of problems.)

I had about 1/4 of the tank of water remaining when I attempted to refill it in anticipation of the first forecasted blizzard. And that was the moment when I discovered that my well pump had in fact stopped working. Immediately, I conducted all ‘narrowing down’ tests I could think of -in case it was human error that had caused the malfunction. I looked at all the connections. Flipped the breaker back and forth a few times. Gave it a few days in between tries (‘cause it just seemed like a good idea.) Mostly, I just tried to not freak out about this new and wholly unexpected hiccup in my world.

After a few days of trial and waiting but still no pump action, I figured I’d have an electrician come out and test all the connections to see if everything was firing correctly. If it wasn't an electrical issue, then I’d probably have to call on the well pump salesman, because -after 30 years of reliable service- that little pump didn’t owe me a thing and more than likely had just up and died and needed to be replaced. Given how sparse my funds were though, this was definitely not my preferred outcome.

And then the blizzard hit. So nobody would be coming out any time soon. Or any time later, for that matter, either. I had no choice but to carefully ration my water. And the days of being snowbound ticked on…and on…and on!

Not surprisingly, eventually the water pressure started to drop. And then the faucets ran dry. Yep, my tank was empty. Completely empty. Nada. Zilch. Nothing left. And that’s when the process of snow melting began, so I could -at the very least- flush the toilet once a day.

After many weeks of having to melt enough snow to fill my toilet tank up to the top, you can bet I became quite familiar with the necessary amounts, measurements and methods needed for ultimate toilet flushing efficacy. Fun factoids: When melting down a large soup pot (4 quart) of tightly packed snow, the water content in the type of snow we were getting yielded around 2/3 of a pot of water. My toilet tank held approximately 2.5 gallons. Each flush used up an entire tank of water -with the exception of maybe an inch or so left remaining at the bottom of the tank. Since it would take me hours to melt enough snow for 2.5 gallons of water, I typically would not refill the toilet tank until the next day. And because there was no outside water coming in (due to the main tank being empty) every time I returned to the toilet tank to refill it, it was exactly how I had left it: Empty -except for the few inches remaining at the bottom.

So why am I telling you all these TMI (look it up) details? Because these specifics are relevant to the mysterious and highly woo-woo occurrences that follow:

My toilet flushing routine had become somewhat of a daily ritual. Unlike everything else that had been upheaval-ed and was ever-changing in my world, the nuts and bolts of this necessary mundane activity remained uneventfully predictable. Melt snow. Fill toilet tank. Flush toilet. Melt more snow. Refill empty tank. Repeat.

Until, that is…I got pretty darn bored with the entire routine. Put out, annoyed, and downright ‘over it’, to be exact. After far too many weeks of maintenance, the simple act of flushing a toilet had become a real pain in-my-arse!

Mind you, I did not have a tantrum this time. I was just done. And I let my sentiments be known. (There’s a joke in there about ‘sediments’, but I will refrain from potty humor for now.) With a calm, yet commanding voice, I simply said out loud, “Ok, I’m done with this now."

Short sidebar about a hermit’s dialogue: After many weeks with no human contact or face-to-face conversing, as well as my being my sole source of company, talking out loud had become a frequent pastime of mine. There’s a certain level of satisfaction that comes from asking myself a question out loud and then immediately receiving a response. Out loud. (Again…more rationale for living alone.)

But back to the riveting tale of the toilet tank: No sooner had I put out my intention and request to be released from all labor-intensive tank-filling duties when I start to notice a strange phenomenon occurring. I went to fill what I assumed would be an empty tank, only to quickly discover that it was already about halfway full of water.

Now, usually as a response to something unusual and seemingly unexplainable, I tend to be somewhat of a logic, reason and questioning kind of person first. If I can’t find a logical reason for a strange occurrence, then I open myself to consider the supernatural or miraculous as the cause.

In this scenario, my first thought was to assume I must have already filled the tank halfway with melted snow water…and simply forgotten to finish the job. So...I topped it off, did the daily flush, took note of the emptied tank after the fact, and then forgot about it until I resumed the refilling task the following day.

When I peeked inside the tank the following day, what did I see? Lo and behold...the tank was full up to the brim! Topped off, I say. Not a drop short of full, full, full!

Huh? Not possible. Can’t be. At this point, my logic is vice-gripping the heck out of my brain. This just didn’t make sense. The main (1500 gallon) tank was completely empty. The well pump couldn’t have miraculously cured itself and suddenly filled the tank back up because the pump was turned off at the breaker. And I had double and triple checked the on/off switch. The pipes were not frozen and holding water until they thawed (sounds like a reasonable answer, doesn’t it?) because I knew for a fact they were fully thawed and emptied –as I had watched them run out to the very last drop. Plus, I turned on the faucets. Still nothing was coming out of them. And…my pipes don’t freeze when they are buried under snow, anyway. After the 30+ years maintaining this primitive system and having to repair countless freeze-shattered pipes (or bear-chewed pipes, but that’s the other story) I’ve gotten quite adept at mitigating pipe freezing scenarios. And I can say with confidence that the pipes were definitely not frozen. Especially not for the entire 3 weeks after the main tank had run dry and I’d had no choice but to refill an empty toilet tank daily.

Yet now the toilet tank was consistently refilling itself every day. From an empty 1500 gallon tank. Huh?

Unexplained angel miracle? Yep…I’m leaning in that direction. Especially given the timing and the rather specific solution to my rather specific request. Whatever the explanation though, the relief of having yet another tedious chore magically removed from my daily duties list was an undeniable gift. And although thoroughly Gobsmacked by such a (still unsolved) mystery, I was indeed exceedingly grateful.

Since the toilet tank issued appeared to be resolved, I thought, ‘well, why not bring some of this magic to the broken well pump, as well?’

For this monumental task, it would be time to bring in the big guns again. Time to call on Dad and the Angel Posse. Petition my case with every pitiful plea I could muster -pulled from my overflowing suitcase of a ‘series of unfortunate events.’ I mean, seriously…after almost a month, I really needed running water in my house. How I longed to soak my weary bones in a steaming hot bath. How I desperately needed to be freed from the burdens and limitations of the insufficient sponge bath. How I anticipated a proper shower for the untangling of my newly acquired dreadlock-doo. I had the electricity. Now I just needed the water to complete the dream.

After having previously completed my snowshoe trek down the drive (and back up again) to scope out the well pump and check to see if all parts were still in place, I stood at the breaker switch up-top and once again called out to my helpers.

But I focused mostly on Dad this time. He had built my house (with my gopher assistance, of course) and I’d always imagined that the love and pride he had vested in building my home then (when he was alive) had somehow carried over with him to his alternate existence now. I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that outside of our bodies, we might even be more empowered to work some miracle-like manifestations than when we are earthbound and distracted by all things survival-oriented.

Maybe even empowered enough to bring a dead well pump back to life? It was surely worth a try. Although it didn’t make logical sense, I called out another service request, turned on the pump switch and sang a little, ‘Please, Please, Please’ jingle on my trek back down the drive. In my mind, I envisioned the water flowing. I saw my Dad smiling. And I imagined my life again with the exquisite treasure that is running water.

As soon as I rounded the corner at the bottom of the hill…voila…there it was! Yet another logic-defying gift given from the great beyond! I immediately spotted the distinct glistening of running water and heard the wonderfully satisfying sounds of splish-splashing on the ground below. All my, ‘Please, Please, Pleases’ were instantly transformed into, ‘Yes, Yes, Yeses…we have water!’ The pump was doing its pumping thing –spouting out crystal clear water as powerfully and consistently as ever. Everything was working. Nothing was askew. My happy-happy dance ensued followed by countless thank-yous shouted out to the heavens above.

A quick turn of the faucet and the water was sent surging to the top of the hill, where in about 10 hours, the behemoth tank would go from totally empty, to totally full.

Coincidence? Me thinks not. It was getting harder and harder to dismiss and/or define these remarkable events as anything other than the unexplainable divine interventions they appeared to be.

At this point (nearly a month into my adventure) there was only one Snowmageddon issue remaining that was significantly impairing my return to a somewhat uncomplicated and carefree existence. And that was: being freed from my personal snow prison. Stay tuned next week for: The Snowmageddon finale, part 2.

About the author and column: The Mountain Messenger is pleased our local singer/songwriter Lynn Zanetta is sharing from her journal about the snow storms of 2023. We have made every effort to maintain the integrity of the journal entries with few edits to preserve her voice and spirit.