By Alison Gerber
I love the steep, wooded ridge on which I live because in the summer, I see nothing but leaves and my daughter calls our yard "the jungle." In the winter, when the trees are bare, I love the view of Dug Gap Mountain.
But when it gets snowy and icy, I hate that darn ridge.
On Thursday night, I abandoned my car at the foot of the ridge after a Whitfield County sheriff's deputy told me that even vehicles with four-wheel drive were having trouble climbing the angled road that on one side has a precipitous drop.
He use words like "treacherous" and "dangerous." That was enough to convince me to park at the foot of the ridge and hoof it uphill.
At first, I wasn't too happy about having to hike home. It seemed like an inconvenient time waster.
I wasn't the only one grumbling. There were about 20 cars parked at the foot of the ridge, and several people were begrudgingly making their way uphill in the snow.
But once I started walking, I realized that the scene was kind of magical.
The crisp air was refreshing after a day spent mostly in front of a computer. It felt good to get my body temperature up as I climbed the hill. And I had conversations with neighbors I usually just drive by and wave to.
The residents at one house were handing out mugs of hot chocolate. At another house, kids tried to make snow angles (there really wasn't enough snow, but they get an A for effort). I saw a family of five - mom, dad and three small kids - all holding hands as they shuffled in the snow.
The snow made everything different, if only for a few minutes.
We live in a world where we drive from our garages to our heated and air conditioned offices, where it's too easy to pull into a drive-through bank, pharmacy or restaurant. All this convenience allows us to avoid interaction with other people.
So I was glad that the snow forced me to participate in what seems like an old-fashioned habit: walking home.