Life was normal and calm in the Hannaford vegetable display zone. Celery, carrots, avocado, apples with a small dash of organic romaine. Done! In the basket. On to the dairy area and then to check out. Items 14 and fewer, please. I was just under the limit – 13 items and a speedy checkout person. Happy camper to avoid the self checkout which causes me to return to the aisle for antacids! For the life of me I cannot explain why scanning so provokes me and frustrates all those nice people behind me in line to check out. It has something to do with my annoying attitude regarding computerized everything. This, I fear, is a never ending affliction. Please give me human contact and someone to pack things properly in my carry on baggage. I don’t care if it doesn’t fit in the overhead compartment.

As my purchases were being scanned in the “Fewer than 14” line, something strange caught the corner of my eye, out through the automatic sliding doors of the grocery store. There was a mass of snow flying all over the place which I realized would further complicate finding where I parked my car. Even on a clear blue sky day, mind you, this can be a challenge. But I couldn’t see anything outside. It was about 5 p.m., and miraculously still daylight, which I have prayed for since December. The transition from early sunset time to more light is yet another challenging process. My internal clock does not tolerate loss of daylight well.

At any rate, I found my car, right where I had left it, just to the left of the big sign, roadside center of the Hannaford parking lot. I must have anticipated confusion and figured, subconsciously, park for location failure. But, holy mackerel, the snow had really come unglued, blowing this way and that, creating a huge inability to see. I came, I saw, I conquered – “Neither snow, nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night!”  “Once more, into the fray.” Onward trusty steed. Fire up the Jetta and be gone. Off I went.  

I’m happy to report that this weather experience was short lived, but while it lasted, cameras in tow, it seemed appropriate to cruise the hood for interesting vistas. In a blizzard like this, everything changes. Whole segments of what are normal, pristine vistas vanish, leaving only the most dominant visible. Stuff on both sides of the harbor became completely invisible for a brief period. It was pretty surreal. Townsend Avenue viewed from the intersection with Oak Street vanished after the House of Logan. On the East Side, at the new waterfront park, stacked traps were visible along with the hauling device and American flag, but beyond that, nothing. The old Tugboat superstructure parked by the edge of the road at the Tugboat Inn, shouted “Picture Me!” So I did. I’m not sure it fully reveals the intensity of the squall, but it was a good backdrop.  

On my drive to the Harbor for groceries I could see the squall line gathering to the North up Edgecomb way. I had no idea what was in store for us but I’m glad it didn’t last too long, at least in that form. We certainly have had our share of interesting weather this winter. I don’t miss the winter rains. That may even beat my dislike of self scanning.