Moving in Snow, Tractors, Needle Rack

We made it. With the help of two teenage cowboys, Girl Twin, (Boy Twin was at his job) one cowgirl, two customers, and a very determined Ivy, we successfully closed our brick and mortar store, Your Daily Fiber. Of course, you know I played a very important part of the project. I can’t leave out Elaine, she was right there, telling me to get up when I needed a break.

Truthfully, I thought we had no chance of accomplishing our goal after last weekend’s snowstorm. Talk about Mother Nature changing your plans. While the storm was both a help and a detriment to the firefighters fighting the wildfire that was at times six miles from our house, it was only a detriment to our moving operation.

The snowstorm dropped twenty inches of beautiful much-needed snow, right in the cab, and on the seat of my tractor. (We will talk about the tractor in a minute.) The depth of the snow hindered access to the storage containers. Carrying yarn and stuff through the snow was near to impossible. If you have a measuring device, measure from zero to twenty; that’s how deep the snow was. I know these things from my years in construction.

Anyway, Elaine and I are experienced at moving in deep snow. We moved to the mountains in the spring of 2003. Shortly after our real estate closing, Mother Nature decided to welcome us to the mountain. As we started our move it started to snow. And snow and snow. Now if you know anything about me, you know I would never hire a moving company or any company; if I thought I could do it myself. This is in direct contrast to the advice I received as a child from Uncle Lawrence, who told my cousin and me, “Never do anything yourself, if you can pay to have it done.” So many times I wish I had listened.

Where was I? Oh yeah, moving in the snow. As Elaine and I, were moving the snow accumulated to 36” deep at the lower and 60” at our new mountain home. (Look it up! We don’t exaggerate in Monner’s Mumblings. Well, sometimes I will lie, but I usually admit it later.)

Some guy with a bulldozer, who to this day, I do not know who he was; offered to plow the quarter-mile driveway to allow us to get our furniture to the house. He asked,

Guy: Where is your driveway? Me: I don’t really know, we are just moving in. Guy: You don’t know where your driveway is? Me: I know it's under all this snow. Guy: I’ll just clear space so you can park here by the road, you can walk from here.

I was thankful for his help.

After moving in, and wanting never wanting to walk in DEEP snow to get home, we decided to buy a snowplowing tractor. I have a friend who sells tractors. He found a ’79 open cab skid steer in great shape. I bought it.

Over the years I have not used that tractor very often, because the really deep snows are rare. A couple months ago, I started looking at new tractors. Tractors with closed cabs and heat. I just couldn’t get myself to buy one. We just don’t get that many large snows.

But of course, we were moving. The storm put 20” of snow on the seat and controls of my tractor. I needed to shovel out the tractor before I could even try to push snow off the driveway. It took half an hour just to access my controls (foot pedals). Another two hours to plow the driveway. Two hours of sitting on a wet seat. I might be regretting not buying a new tractor.

When twenty inches of snow melts it creates mud. Mud is almost as bad as snow for carrying yarn to the storage containers. However, I learned something; teenage cowboys don’t care about mud or snow. It’s like they don’t know its there.

Yesterday, during the day our customers had stopped by to say good-bye. Our landlord had stopped by earlier. Ivy was cleaning like an insane person. I was working equally as hard, except for that time Ivy caught me sitting down watching a baseball video on my phone.

Should Ivy try to tell you she watched me fall down the stairs carrying some stuff; it was only one step. Ivy did ask if I was OK, before she laughed. I don’t think there is a pad under that carpet. It’s a good thing we’ve moved out.

At five o'clock last night we locked the door to the brick and mortar for the last time. I asked Ivy, if she was OK. She assured me she was. As we headed home, we might have teared up a little.

You can’t start an adventure without ending one first. Join us. God Bless everyone.

If you have ever been in our brick and mortar you might have seen our knitting needle display. Ivy designed it, I built it years ago using about a third of my construction knowledge. It was the last thing to be loaded up for the journey home. It didn’t enjoy the forty-mile ride, including the last eleven on dirt roads. Maybe, if I had used two-thirds of my construction knowledge, I would not be rebuilding it today.

Our crazy lives!

Monner