Sweet Mesquite and I blocked off the better part of Monday to attend a funeral in Lenox. We planned on arriving in less than the two and a half hours travel time we had allotted. Too bad a nasty snowstorm decided to travel at EXACTLY.THE.SAME.TIME... "Oh, don't worry," I said as we left our driveway, "those little flakes are just in passing." Didn't turn out to be quite true.
We sat on the Massachusetts Turnpike
(in Brandford... WHERE the heck is THAT?!?)
feeling like a semi-truck sandwich.
In no-to-slow-motion.
For 90 minutes.
Then we started to make some progress.
The eastbound lanes were moving right along.
We were a little jealous.
We passed the empty-but-scarred scene of what looked like it had been a very large accident. Once we got going again, the un-plowed roads were pretty slick, so our progress was slow.
I told Mesquite (an hour after the funeral had started and we were still 14 miles away) that if there had been a spot to turn around, I wouldn't have hesitated. There was no way but forward. I drove creeped along, and she got some homework done.
Lenox is WAY out there. Almost to New York. It's one of the most enchanting little towns you'll ever see, and the snow made it magical. I wish we could have lingered a bit longer. We made it just in time to have a plate of food, hug our friends and head home.
Thankfully for us, the ten mile back up on the turnpike on the way home was on the opposite stretch of roadway.
Those pour traveling souls might still be out there... we made it back safe and sound. Despite the weather, it was actually a delightful day with my daughter. (We'd do it again. But we're grateful we don't need to.)
