A Taste of Home
My five month trip should have been six. My hangar - five miles out of town, in the country - is still snowed-in. Poorboy's plow could not push through the more than two-foot drifts of heavy wet snow and layered ice. Crust broke and I sank to my knees plodding to the building. Snow shoes would have been ideal but mine were inside. Everything inside was just as I left it in October - even the electricity meter read unchanged. Though power remained on, nothing was left running. A thermometer on one wall read 34 degrees Fahrenheit. I gathered a pair of boots, a heavy coat, and my bicycle.
I settled into the basement of friends Sue and Tim on Wisconsin Avenue - just a two block walk into downtown Gladstone. Though a lot of snowbanks remain, streets are clear and dry. The bike pedaled slow and heavy like it had two low tires and a dragging brake - not wanting to coast for more than about twelve feet. The beach cruiser made for quite a workout but under clear blue skies, I toured the frozen Gladstone lakefront with my camera and took a few photos.
