This morning I went out to cut a path to the garage, but I couldn’t find the snow shovel, because it was buried under the snow.

The power went out before noon. When it started to get dark we tried to leave, but the roads out of town were blocked, and the police turned us back.

As we drove home we saw a snow-plow abandoned in the ditch, cock-eyed. There was black snow matter filling in the wheel wells. The heavy blade at the front was burnished from dragging the asphalt. It was clean and cold like a flag pole. I had a camera, so I told her to stop the car and I went to take a picture.

I took the picture.

Then I went around to the other side to get it from a different angle. It was good subject matter for a picture, because it was a snow-plow that had been abandoned in the snow. You see what I mean. So, I went to the other side and looked through the view finder.

The driver was inside the cab. It looked just like she was asleep.

I went back to the car and opened the door. Some flakes blew into the car and melted on the upholstery. The radio had the pass reports on. We called the police and waited for them, watching the wind whip snow off the roofs, and listening to the radio.

A snowman in the yard was in the process of being buried as the blizzard continued to fall around it. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes.

The engine in the snow-plow cranked loudly. It turned over and the lights came on. We turned around in our seats to get a better look, and saw the snow-plow driver waking up.

The plow truck rocked back and forth before finally backing out onto the street. It drove away just as the police car arrived, pulling up beside us. He rolled down his window and my wife rolled down hers.

“You said you found a body?” the policeman said.
“In a manner of speaking,” I said.
“How’s that?” replied the officer. I pointed out the front windshield at the yard.
“All of this snow, officer, is just the bodies of unborn snowmen.”

The officer wanted to see if we had been drinking. He made my wife get out of the car and walk in a straight line. As she did so she explained about the snow plow driver. The officer got angry with me and warned me, then drove away.

I got out of the car and sat on the hood. The engine was running and it was warm underneathe me. You could see a silhouette of my legs in the headlights, on the snow. The tracks the snow plow had left were filled in with fresh snow. It was so quiet, except for the wind.

“I wish you hadn’t told him about that,” I said, “I had the situation under control.”
“Just get back in the car,” she said.
“I want a divorce,” I said.