ALMOST-PERFECT SNOW

There's a wire hanging into my driveway (resting on neighbor's car ... please, wind, stay away!!!!), and the snow finally stopped at around eight inches, but that's on top of three inches of rainy slush.

That's what I get for my hubris about the storm-not-yet-a-storm.

Today I shovel almost all of the snow.  My landlord's son gets the crappy snowblower going and does some of the work for me, but I do the majority of heavy lifting.  My youngest is home, but he is on the clock, working finance and trying to link into the office via the Internet for as long as we have it (and power).   He makes me a breakfast sandwich and promises to help me on his lunch break.  I promise not to do all the heavy lifting without him.

I lie.

Truth is the day after the storm is a glorious day.  It's warmish, it's quiet, and it's so incredibly beautiful when it snows.  I don't mind being outside on a day like today.  However, I do know it's not the day to go snowshoeing, even around the neighborhood.  We have tree limbs down on our cars, and, in addition to the wire I need to shovel under and around, the ice and snow falling from the trees are like snowballs with rocks in them.  They pelt me constantly and they hurt like hell. One chunk of falling tree-ice hits me in the head and almost knocks me over.  My back is bruised from the onslaught.

No, today would be a dangerous and stupid day to go trekking alone through the woods without a hardhat.  When the shoveling is done, it's still not done.  So much ice is falling from the trees that the ground is covered again.  The good news is that the sun comes out and finishes the last of the work for me.  The bad news is that I am desperate for Tylenol or Motrin because my shoulders are sore and my ice-pelted body is suffering.

It's all okay, though.  The beauty of the day -- this silent snow, the windless beauty of it sticking to the fence and the rocks and the trees and every thing.  If it just weren't so damn heavy, it would be absolutely perfect.