deCordova Snow Day

Not a bright footwear decision

Today was deCordova Museum Day. Hillel and I had planned to wander the fabulous and expansive sculpture garden, meander around the inside galleries and then hit the gift shop -- if not to shop, to at least peruse all the beautiful glassware and woven goods. Oh yeah and LUNCH!

What happened?
I woke to a dreary, rainy day -- above freezing but blah and very wet. Not prime sculpture garden strolling weather but neither was it prohibitively vile. Eh, I put a big umbrella in the car, donned a slightly heavier coat and wound a scarf around my neck that could also serve as head covering. Since it was warm-ish, I slid into my Vans -- nice to not need my big heavy snow boots.

Now, recall that I live on the coast where it's always a few degrees warmer in winter and cooler in summer. This is a good thing BUT I'm forever forgetting that Neck weather is a bit different from inland.

Halfway up 95 North the rain turned to fluffy flakes. Then the flurries turned heavy. And then positively weighty. It occurred to me that I should probably catch the next exit, turn around and return home. After all, Bix the Wondercar is relatively feather-ish compared to my old war horse Volvo wagon and every other damn vehicle on the road.

Calling it a day right there would have been smart, right?

So I did, right?

Wrong!

The museum is only about three and a half miles off exit 28B. Should have been easy. WOULD have been simple and smooth had the roads been cleared. They were not. While the snow storm on the highway was annoying, the driving wasn't bad at all, just slightly slower. Me and my car compadres drove at the speed limit instead of ten or so mph above.

On thin, winding Trapelo and Sandy Pond Roads, the only way into this rural-ish museum, there’d been no plow-age. At all. Four inches of the white stuff doesn’t sound like much until you try to drive a snowtire-free car through it.

My poor Bix was fish tailing like a Chinook dancing it's way up the Yakima for sexy spawn time action. At this point I figured 'yeah, I better head for home.' Damn -- took me long enough!

Why, with all the crazy weather, ridiculously awful visibility and all that boogie woogie auto action, didn't I turn around right there and then? I couldn't see anything for the heavy, blowing snow and kept figuring the museum entrance HAD to be 'round the next bend -- I'd turn there. That and I kept thinking,

'oh, this'll clear off in another minute. Hillel and I will be fine.
We'll have loads of silly fun climbing through the snow to the sculptures, we'll enjoy the paintings inside as we dry out and then lunch! It'll be fun!'

But the snow didn't stop and, when I finally, in nerve shocked state rolled up the deCordova ticket office, the very nice attendant told me they'd be closing shortly and waived my entrance fee.

Hmmph. It was only then that I fully embraced the rock solid, stellar concept of going home before things got even worse. Not too quick today, was I?

On the very slow, slippy way back to 95 I came across a couple of nasty accidents, thankful that I wasn't one of them.

As I drew closer to home, fully expecting the snow to turn back to rain, the treacherous flakes grew to the size of dinner plates and became more plentiful than shoppers at a Black Friday Best Buy sales 'event.' Every car that past me kicked giant gouts of slush onto my windscreen, obscuring it completely if momentarily.

White knuckles? I had an econo huge supply of them.

Next Saturday my pal Joe and I are planning a trip to the Peabody Essex Museum. Note to self: check the Salem weather forecast BEFORE I leave the house!