Do Snow-blowers Suck or Blow?

Is it a matter of opinion?

Over the last two days I have been constantly serenaded by the sound of strong howling winds pummeling the windows in my apartment. The wind has been hurling freezing rain, snow, and arctic scenarios at my windows. There has been no silence.

I had a major epiphany this afternoon. I suddenly realized, perhaps for the first time in my life, that there must be a connection between the word, “wind” and “window.” Is ‘ow’ the only difference? Windows may be designed to keep the wind out — and thank God for that! — but they do not necessarily keep the sound out. In fact, being a barrier to that wind, windows act much like the skin of a drum. They practically intensify the noise of the wind.

When you are outside in freezing rain it may not be much fun but it is not exactly loud. When you are inside and freezing rain is pelting your windows it suddenly feels like you are inside an aluminum can that is being smashed with a hammer. Has anyone ever noticed how windows seems to greatly magnify the sound of frozen water falling from the sky?

Maybe it is only a little bit louder than being outside. Maybe… Okay, no it’s not. It’s a lot louder!

Thankfully, at least to my ears, the freezing rain eventually turned into snow. It’s like someone turned down the stereo. Hallelujah!

The sound of snow hitting your windows is so quiet that you’ve got to be in a state of ecstatic meditative bliss to even hear it. And if you are in that state it can only be a wonderful thing, right?

So for the last thirty-some hours it has been snowing. (I miss the sun so much!) It finally stopped snowing at around 3:30 this afternoon.

I went outside and shoveled the porch, steps and sidewalk. Don’t tell anyone but I secretly like shoveling snow. It is not only fun exercise but it is something you can appreciate over the course of the next few following days. I’ve dug a lot of ditches in my life — surprisingly way too many — and I can tell you that shoveling snow is so much more delightful.

And using a snow shovel to shovel snow produces a sound that is quite acceptable. As I shoveled the snow I heard other people shoveling snow. It was a sound that embodied community, fellowship, winter. It was pleasant. It was like a subtle and soft percussion riff.

Done, I came inside and warmed up. Soon, I was sitting at my desk with my laptop booted up. And that is when it happened…

While my windows kept out the arctic cold they did nothing to quell the sound of countless snow-blowers being turned on. Sadly, it is a sound that reverberates throughout the neighborhood after a snow.

Don’t tell anyone but I happen to be utterly turned on by the sound of lawnmowers. It happens to be one of the most wonderful sounds in the world to me. It reminds me of my youth when I mowed lawns for spending money. It reminds me of summer! It is a sound I love as much as the cacophony of cicadas. It makes me feel so good!

But snow-blowers produce a very, very different sound! And it is not even remotely pleasant. It grinds incessantly and abrasively on one’s state of mind.

And seriously, just how good are snow-blowers? From my upstairs windows I look across the street to my neighbor. I don’t think he even owns a snow shovel. He gets out his snow-blower, fills it with gas and pulls the cord to turn it on. Without ever bending over and exerting himself, he plows his sidewalks like he is pushing a shopping cart through a grocery store.

And when he is done I can’t even see his sidewalks. His snow-blower clears his sidewalks of all the snow above the bottom half-inch to three-quarters of an inch. When I use a snow shovel I scrape the sidewalk and get every bit of snow possible. But a snow-blower leaves a layer of snow on the sidewalk. It makes so much more noise but it doesn’t get the job fully done. The next day when the sun finally comes out there is a thin layer of snow still on the sidewalk and then it melts and then it turns into ice and then someone walking down the sidewalk slips on the ice and cracks their noggin.

At least the pusher of the snow-blower didn’t have to exert themselves much!

The delightful quiet of the snowstorm finally ended with the neighborhood sound of people shoveling snow. And then the neighborhood erupted with the sound of snow-blowers.

I had to do something to block out that noise. So I dug out my headphones.

I had to dig through a pile of stuff to get to my headphones. I realized that I may not have listened to music since November — maybe early December. (How disgusting is that?)

But I simply had to block out that horrible sound of countless neighborhood snow-blowers. I put on my headphones and turned on one of my favorite playlists of songs.

I essentially moved into a whole new dimension…

I don’t listen to music very much these days. My place of peace is silence. I’m afraid that if I listen to a song that that song will continue to play in my noggin endlessly. I don’t care for any noise in my noggin that I didn’t put there. I hate it when a song repeats itself endlessly for days or weeks or months in my noggin. I hate it when I can’t turn a song off.

So, sadly, I don’t listen to music anywhere near as often as I used to do.

But with those goddam snowblowers echoing in my noggin I turned to a drug that I have used all my life. I listened to music — loud enough to overshadow the drone of neighborhood snowblowers.

And so I entered a different dimension.

It was an auditory dimension that immediately shifted all other dimensional perspectives.

And I realized that most all of those songs on my “fav” playlist were songs about summer.

The temperature in my apartment rose about three or four degrees.

I unbuttoned my shirt to cool off.

My feet and legs and body began swaying. I was moving to the music instead of anything else.

I stepped into a different place.

I let the songs wash over me and I didn’t care which songs would still be there in the morning.

And then as my playlist continued I came across a song by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. He is a Hawaiian singer and ukele player who, on my playlist, sings a rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World.”

It is impossible for me to listen to that song without thinking of Hawaii. I suddenly could not help but wonder how many snow-blowers there are in the state of Hawaii. There probably aren’t many snow shovels either. The sounds there are surely very different.

I am led to fantasize about living in Hawaii or some other place where there are no snow-blowers. I realize that I can be there just by keeping my headphones on. I can feel it.

But in the morning I am back where I am.

The windows are still there keeping out the snow and the cold and re-establishing the parameters of my existence. If I’m lucky I realize that there are many windows, only a few of which are made of glass. Life is full of windows, any of which we can open and transport ourselves to any number of paradises. What we hear is not dependent on our ears. It is all about what we feel.

Music can turn an arctic blizzard into a tropical paradise just at it can turn any reality into something that pulls me into that which I imagine.

There is music in every moment of our lives. Do we hear it? What are we hearing instead? Are we listening to echoes of the past? Are we listening to the echoes of the present? Are we listening to echoes of the future?

Or, instead of listening, are we feeling the music?

When feeling and listening come together…

… you can no longer hear the snow-blowers.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Writings of White Feather

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