Here in the southeastern part of the United States a second major winter storm has barreled through. As it approached we were instructed by everyone from the governor of the state on down not to venture out, to get ready in advance and then to stay home.
Yesterday during the worst of it I watched an entertaining scene from my desk in a second floor dormer.
First, I heard the sound of a car. Hmmm.
Then, a lovely silver BMW sedan crept into view, the tires spinning, its forward momentum lost. Reverse, and back out of view. Forward, and again in sight.
The driver door opened and a well-dressed man stepped out onto the ice. Leather shoes, suit and bright tie, topcoat. Another man, bundled against the pelting sleet, appeared with a big square of cardboard and a shovel. They took turns digging tracks behind and in front of the car.
Back in the car the driver eased forward, slid sideways, reversed. Again. Again. Again. The helper tried pushing at one point, ending up on his knees. No progress.
The two men conferred. The cardboard and shovel were cast into a front yard. The driver popped the trunk. The helper climbed in.
The car eased along the street and out of view.
And, there I sat.
It's traction. The answer!
So, what I am going to put in my metaphorical trunk to stop the endless spinning? To get myself going? Under way?