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Life was normal and peaceful in Hannaford’s vegetable display zone. Celery, carrots, avocado, apples and a little organic romaine. end! In the basket. Go to the dairy area and check out. No more than 14 items please. I was just under the limit – 13 items and a quick checkout person. As a camper, I was happy to be able to avoid the self-checkout where I had to go back to the aisle for antacids! I’ll never know why scanning excites me so much and irritates the nice people behind me in the checkout line. It has something to do with my annoying attitude towards everything being computerized. Unfortunately, this is a never-ending struggle. Please provide your personal contact information and someone who can properly pack your items in your carry-on baggage. I don’t care if it doesn’t fit in the overhead bin.
As my purchases were being scanned in the “under 14” line, I saw something strange out of the corner of my eye as I stepped out through the automatic sliding doors of the grocery store. Snow was flying everywhere and finding where we parked the car proved to be even more difficult. Keep in mind that this is difficult even on a sunny, blue-sky day. But nothing could be seen outside. It was around 5 p.m., a miraculous time I had been praying for since December, and it was still daylight. The transition from early sunset times to brighter hours is an even more difficult process. My body clock doesn’t tolerate daylight loss very well.
In any case, I found my car right next to where I left it, just to the left of the large sign in the center of the road in the Hannaford parking lot. I must have expected chaos and subconsciously thought to park considering the location’s failure. But oh my god, the snow was really flaking off, blowing this way and that, making visibility so much worse. I came, I saw, I conquered – “No snow, no rain, no heat, no darkness of night!” “Once more into the fray.” Come on, trusty horse. Fire up the Jetta and leave. I went.
I’m happy to report that this weather experience didn’t last long, but while it did, it seemed appropriate to cruise around the hood with my camera and take in some interesting views. In a snowstorm like this, everything changes. Entire parts of the normal pristine landscape disappear and only the most dominant ones become visible. Those on either side of the harbor were completely invisible for a short period of time. It was pretty surreal. Townsend Avenue, seen from its intersection with Oak Street, disappears after the Logan mansion. To the east, in the new waterfront park, stacks of traps and haulers and American flags could be seen, but beyond that there was nothing. The superstructure of an old tugboat parked on the side of the road at the Tugboat Inn screamed, “Draw me!” So I did. I’m not sure if it fully represents the intensity of the squall, but it was a good background.
As I drove to the port to buy groceries, I saw a squall line gathering north up Edgecomb Way. I had no idea what to expect, but I’m glad it didn’t last long, at least in that form. We have certainly had some interesting weather this winter. Winter rain is essential. That might help me overcome my dislike of self-scans.
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