Weathering the Storms

This winter is likely to go into the memory books for its snow.  If you're a shoveler, it was a winter with lots of work.  If you're a snowshoer, the opportunities were boundless.  If you're a business person trying to keep your shop open, it was rough.

This winter's snow also had quite an impact on sidewalks, roads and roofs.  This most recent storm did quite a bit damage to trees and powerlines as well.  As spring takes hold, there will likely be more impacts from flooding.   Storms like these are not in our control, we just have to manage around them.  

As a restaurant, snowstorms reduce customer activity drastically.  I actually don't want customers or my staff out driving around during the worst of storm activity.  I understand that it can take a while to dig out.  I realize that without clear roads or a place to park when you get here, driving from out of town to visit doesn't make sense.  I struggled to walk to the cafe some mornings, including one day where snowshoes were the only appropriate option.  And while I can pray that snowstorms won't land on a Saturday, I know I have no power over when they come. This year the storms came at the wrong time and on the wrong days.

I am learning that winters like these are bound to be more common due to our changing climate.   So how do we plan to be more resilient and weather these storms?  

As a small business owner, a winter like this hurts.  Without a savings cushion, some businesses don't make it to spring. Going into a winter dormancy or hibernation is indeed one way of limiting the losses in the natural world and can be one to consider for a business.  Our dear friend, the Curry Diva, did take that route - choosing to make an extended trip home to visit family during a time when business would be very slow otherwise.

I relied on an SBA loan to get through this winter. However, choosing debt as a way to stay open isn't a sustainable option either.  Just getting access to operating capital can be such a challenge for small businesses that it isn't even an option.   Debts like these were a vicious cycle for me in the early years of the business, because I'd work all summer trying to pay off the debts of the previous winter, only to arrive at the next winter with no savings and have to go into deep debt again.  It can wear one down much the way winter storms can take down tree branches.

There's a stylish set of furnishings that play on the "weathered" look - although they're often called "distressed."   For some of us, that well-worn, softened, weathered look is comforting.  In the restaurant world, however, new and fresh, clean and crisp tend to get much more attention.  Sure, a cozy, well-loved cafe space can feel warm and inviting, but there's a point where even I start to think, hmm, this place has seen better days.

Honestly, being an owner/operator onsite each day, I'm feeling pretty weathered myself (although most folks just call it aging).  I don't have the stamina and energy of those first years (17 years ago) and I wonder how I was often working into the late evenings when I'm pretty worn out by mid-afternoons these days. 

Pre-pandemic, I had reached a bit of a truce with winters.  Knowing that they weren't going to be good for business, I felt it was okay to slow down, cut back, and wait it out.  Unfortunately, trying to still dig out from the pandemic's impact on the business finances, I really hoped for more this winter.  Because I had higher expectations, the winter storms were more frustrating.  Had I been able to just accept the snowfalls as opportunities to get out my snowshoes or cross-country skis, it might have been a different story. 

And now with this early spring's profusion of potholes, oh, my, I'm finding a reminder to just take it a bit slower and perhaps try to weather these next few weeks a bit differently.   The last time I remember potholes this worthy of writing about was April of 1989.  I'm sharing this piece of writing with you as a way to also help me reframe my April days.

Every spring they appear, open mouths gulping fresh spring air, stretching wide smiles across lanes of pavement, gobbling up unsuspecting suspensions.

Nature's freezing and thawing action nibbles at the seams of our solid creation, barely flexing its muscles, quietly at work. 

And we, triumphant at our survival of winter, celebrating spring's return, drop into these ragged openings . . . and curse.  Our body jolts and cringes, we hold our breath, swerve from side to side, stare straight ahead alert to the horrors that lie before us.

And we miss everything.  Passing us by are buds and blossoms, flowers and leaves, color returning to nature's pale winter face.  Birds joyous in their homecoming, and animals playful in their freedom. We miss it all, lest we distract ourselves from the depths of the depressions ahead.

Yet despite our closest watch, our keenest eye, our most careful navigation, we do find that next bottomless pit.  We hit it squarely, and shocked, we don't see the next one either, their impressions leaving us senseless until jounced into recognition of our fate by yet another road claw.  What did we gain?

It seems that we could spend so much of our energy avoiding the potential hazards ahead of us, that we might miss everything beautiful around us.  And we may even forget why we are taking the journey in the first place.

We are called then to drive ahead, through the potholes, not around them.  To drive with a courage and faith that softens the jolts and shocks of the road.  To celebrate the journey's beauty and to even take time to think of our travelling companions.

Sure, we can fill the holes and make the road smooth for a little while, but the holes will return, perhaps in the same places or maybe somewhere new.  How we meet life's potholes is just as important as how we deal with them.

As we get out on the green path in these coming days, may you find a sense of accomplishment in weathering this winter, but also a joy in beauty that surrounds us daily.