Disaster on the bunny trail

As a small boy home from school on a snowy day, I liked to follow rabbit tracks in fresh snow. That seemed like a fun way to spend a morning but it didn't do me any good last week as I tried to dodge a snowdrift next to my house.

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The rabbit that left the trail outside my sidewalk, had he been watching, would have laughed his cold, cottony tail off. I didn't think it was all that funny.

Of the five working days of the week, Thursday is the one in which I usually don't have to be in the office early. I still get there by 8 a.m. but that's better than the 6 or 7 a.m. I usually aim for other days. I still ramble out of bed before dawn but find it a luxury to watch morning TV for an hour and to sit down for breakfast instead of eating on the go.

The several inches of snow that fell Monday night and Tuesday didn't cause me much trouble getting to and from work. But as of Wednesday night, the wind had drifted over the steps leading from my garage to the house's front door. I'm not sure why it happened, but the wind whipping over the hill on which my house is perched left anywhere from 18 inches to 2 feet of snow over the steps. Walking to the house Wednesday night, the drift was nearly up to my knees. Leaving home Thursday morning, I tried to evade the drift. Looking back, it would have behooved me to shovel the sidewalk, but since I didn't get home until nearly 10, I forgot about the shovel and went to bed.

Loaded down that morning with a leather satchel that holds a laptop computer and my camera - I didn't want them sitting in the cold all night - I started down the sidewalk. Then I remembered the drift.

Not wanting snow all over my pant legs, I decided to walk around the drift, crossing a few yards of lawn and then some landscape rocks on the side of the detached garage. That's when I saw the rabbit tracks, heading in a semicircular arc around the garage. I'd seen the bunny all fall, sometimes in front of my garage when I returned at night. I set out following the tracks. The snow was only a couple of inches deep and I was doing OK. In fact, I was nearly to the garage door when the rabbit path led me astray. A landscaping rock frozen to the ground tripped me, sending me falling head-first into the snow. I would have tried catching myself but I worried about my camera, which I held out. I toppled like a big tree, felled at the feet.

I jumped up quickly, mad but unhurt. My camera was fine and while my glasses were covered by the plume of snow my falling bulk had thrown into the air, there were no cracked lenses or bent frames. Being on the far side of the garage, no one saw the embarrassing tumble. My pride was hurt. Nothing else.

I walked to the garage, threw my stuff inside and marched back to the house up the drifted-over steps. I was able to brush the snow from my pants and shirt - no time to change clothes. Needless to say, I'll be shoveling any future snowfall from my walkway, no matter how deep the drifts.