One of Sheila's Christmas card photos of our garden - this was before the big precipitation of Saturday.
Now I'm not one for ad hoc Advent miracle stories in which we all find our own angels doing their thing on our personal behalf.
But here's what happened.
I spend most of Sunday morning digging our way out of the house and clearing the drive.
Then I do the same for our neighbour who isn't up to that kind of thing now.
Next up the hill through snow deep enough to come over the tops of my wellingtons, to clear the road for my car, and to remove the 9 inches of frosted snow from it.
Job done I collect the snow shovel, scraper, long handled brush (only way I can reach across the car roof being so diminutive myself)
Walking back down I'm greeted by Dempsey, the big daft dug from next door, lolloping around in snow carrying his blue ball.
Drops it at my feet and demands I throw it - which I do, and it disappears into a snow drift.
Dempsey hasn't a scooby doo where it went, and sits there waiting to see what this thick wee human is going to do about it.
In a reversal of roles, he sits there and I go and retrieve it.
Then in for a hot tea and a Nick Nairn crumpet - at which point I look for my keys.
The bunch of keys, car, house, and every other locked premise I'm repsonsible for.
Somewhere in the deep snow, between the car and the house (50 metres or so of 18 inch deep all but virgin snow) somewhere, I dropped the keys.
Easily done. I had gloves on - was sure I'd pocketed them - clearly had missed, and the keys fell soundlessly into the snow.
At which point the snow plough went up the road and I had visions of my keys bulldozed under tons of snow and probably now buried till Spring.
The day got worse - more snow, so heavy it wasn't wise to be out poking in snow looking for keys.
So bad the car struggling up the hill outside the door had two people with shovels and grit helping it up the road.
I make a list of who to phone and how to get new keys, spare keys - the whole thing an embarrassing amount of trouble for other people.
Doorbell rings.
A polite person in white, holds out to me a bunch of keys which he knows are mine.
An angel. An Advent messenger. A heavenly visitor, who has for once heard my self-centred petitionary prayer to have my blessed keys returned.
A miracle. A sign that I am favoured amongst men!
Well. Actually. A man with a shovel who had been digging away the snow to get the car up the hill and who had come across a bunch of keys.
One of them was the Honda car key - only one Honda owner nearby. Keys must be mine. Rational deduction, not miracle.
Aye right! Sometimes the miracle is the coincidence of circumstances - what are the chances of dropped keys, deep snow, snow plough, stranded car, man with shovel, clink of keys and Honda logo, all coming together to that point when my doorbell rang and I'm faced with a man smiling through a layer of snow handing me my keys, for which I had prayed with intermittent desperation, once I'd stopped cursing my own carelessness? Huh?
Anyway, the rest of the day was spent in the wondering afterglow as I pondered these things in my heart :))
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For those interested, I have posted a more traditional Advent reflection over at Hopeful Imagination.
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