Letter to the Editor: The drifting, whistling snow
I discovered Ottertail between two great big snow banks Monday morning.
And for hours I wandered aimlessly through the snow, seeking answers to the many questions racing through my feathered brain:
Where was everything? Where was my driveway? My sidewalk? My pickup?
Finally, I could go no further. I leaned against a tree, put my ear flaps down, and wondered where to go.
That’s when I realized, I was a prisoner here in Ottertail, with this drifting, whistling snow.
That’s when Sandra, she called out to me: “Willard, I’ve got to go to Ladies Aid.”
“Shovel out that pickup. Best you get started right away.”
Now, them early settlers fought them miners and those crazy Navaho.
But, I tell you, that was nothing like all this drifting snow.
So I took the scoop and started shoveling, all I could see was just the hood.
Then the wind began to whistle, and the snow began to blow.
And I went in the house to dry my hands and warm my frozen toes.
While I was gone the snow banks began to grow and grow.
And now my shovel, too, is resting ‘neath that whistling, drifting snow.
Just how I managed to get out of Ottertail, I do not know.
But, now to pay my debt for being spared, I just had to share;
What we went through this weekend in the snow and cold.