I was driving on W Surrey Road during the last snowstorm and I decided to walk around Eagle Glen for a while. It was dawn and I was just coming from town. The course is mostly flat in that area with only a few trees, and there were no tracks of any kind. The snow covered all the fairways and bunkers, and the sky was milky gray. I plodded onto the field in work boots, which weren't waterproof or lined with anything. The snow went up to my shins. It was still coming down and it was hard to see anything after a hundred yards, not even the cars on the road, if there were any. I couldn't hear anything other than the wind and the icy snow ticking against my jacket. There was a pond on my left that was the color of wet slate. A broken circle of pine trees wrapped around it and the tree branches sagged under the weight of the snow. I walked to the clubhouse, a simple, unremarkable building, and continued down the slope to the other side of the course, and I started walking southwest to avoid the lot where they keep all that heavy, loud equipment for grinding wood. Not long after that I stumbled onto the train tracks near Overton Creek. I had forgotten about the tracks. On each side thick trees clustered together like people thrown out of their homes, huddling together for protection. The snow came down a little harder as I approached W Surrey Road again. A snowplow passed me as I walked to my truck, slashing through the snow and pushing it to the side with its yellow blade. Already someone was trying to get rid of it. After I found my truck, I drove home and made myself some coffee. I dried my work boots next to the space heater and through the window I watched the snow persist. read more
