Lisa Bondurant

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I spend my time raising kids, gathering eggs, cutting wood, scoping out trees for tapping, making syrup in the last days of winter, watching my garden NOT grow in the summer, writing, wishing that there were more hours on the clock for sleeping.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Following The Snowball

To follow the snowball, the snowball would not roll down the hill. By the time it had come to rest in its final spot the snowball was wider then it was tall, because I had not been able to rotate it from side to side to keep it even, for the last (quite a long while actually) of rolling and forming. Then the good neighbors who had come to plow, had actually plowed a huge pile of snow right up to the front of the ball and stopped. That mountain of snow froze! The snowball froze, all the way to the gravel and maybe the Earth. My father and I had put shoulders to the beast and shoved with all our might. On day three of trying to shove the ball unsuccessfully my father was beginning to be a little irritated with me! He rolled his eyes at me and stated...
"You won't do this again!" I agreed, without hesitation. By now the road where plowed was nearly free of snow. By now the road behind us where I had rolled up so much snow was nearly free of snow. If only we had, had the truck at the top of the hill we could have pushed the ball away. If only it had not been such a wide snowball the neighbors could have gotten the plow around it to push from the top. For that matter, if only I had not made a snowball...
"Yes", I assured him on the fourth day as he once again walked around the snowball, to walk all the way down to the truck at the bottom of the mountain. "I won't do that again" Two days later, we tried to shove the ball down the hill. It wobbled and stopped against the mountain of plowed snow. Then with great effort we turned the ball to the electric cut on the road's side. I was getting excited again.
"This will be good", I told my dad. "Just wait, you’ll see. It will speed down the steep cut and hurdle into the air and smash across the field at the bottom of the mountain." My pride was renewed...there was new hope for me. The neighbors would laugh at me no longer once they saw this monster rolling, smashing, and bouncing past. We balanced it on the tippy top of the electric cut and shoved. It rolled more! Three feet ... six picked up speed...
"It's going" I cried out. "Look! Look! It's rolling... it's..."
The ball rolled to a sad, soggy thudding stop, into an electric pole just ten feet away. My father and I just stood there. Perfectly still as if someone had hit the pause button on us and the ball, A long moment later the ball shuddered then crumbled into slurry of slush and mush at the bottom of the pole. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my father slowly turn to look at me.
"Well that wasn't too exciting", he stated and rolled his eyes in that way he had when telling me...
"Yeah, I won't do that again" I mumble.
February 2010.
George was walking down the mountain to the truck parked at the bottom so he could go to town for groceries. He sees the Good Neighbor Tim trying to plow out our road for us again.
"Tim, just watch out for the giant snowball at the top", he jokes. Tim looks surprised and worried.
"Oh God!" he exclaims “Don’t tell me she did it again"

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