Just a quick note: February just wrapped up as the snowiest February on record in Bozeman’s history—and it’s still snowing. I want this ALWAYS to be my life.
"Urban touring" through the marshes on the east side of Downtown
If I had a nickel for every car I’ve helped push out of a snow bank in the last three days, I’d be well on the way to buying myself a pint of beer at the Bacchus (which is open again). If I had a nickel for every neighbor helping, I’d be well on my way to buying a round.
I’m heartened and delighted by the community comradery.
For example: ten minutes ago, a two-wheel-drive truck somehow found itself embedded into the snow bank opposite my house. By the time I could pull on a jacket and slip my boots on, I was the fourth person to arrive. We each put a shoulder into the hood of the truck and pushed the truck right out. And, then, before the driver could quite roll her window down and say thank you, the helpers were dispersed—on with our days.
The snow this past week has imposed a lot of challenges and hardships on the community, and I just feel affirmed and a sense of belonging by the many ways I’ve seen the folks here respond. There’s a notable absence of abandoned vehicles, not for lack of getting stuck—but for the swift arrival of others to help push. I so appreciate the way that, even as our streets have become treacherous, they’ve also become more safe thanks to so many courteous drivers, yielding, waving, and driving carefully on our two-way streets that have become one-way streets.
And, delighted by how many big smiles I saw on Peets Hill yesterday, while in the midst of a ski tour from my back door…
