I had partially convinced myself that this whole global warming thing would mean that winter might no longer be a thing. Today snapped me back into reality. And as if the snow weren’t enough of a hemorrhoid the boy has Mono so the shoveling fell square on me. And I do mean shoveling as the previously discussed delusion prevented me from getting all of the necessary supplies required to blow the snow. So I did what had to be done but I was not happy about it.
One benefit to no longer have an elderly person living next door means that the shovel lines stop dead at the property border conveniently identified by the new owners and their survey crew. I would leave permanent staked strings up if it wouldn’t trip so many dog walkers (he said in shaky potential legal defense in case the mood overtakes) . My wife and our town won’t let me fence the front yard so my dream of people having to yell “Open the Gate!’ when they want to visit will have to wait. I am not talking about that flimsy pre-built stockade fencing either. I want a real stockade fence honed from the logs of my beloved Buckthorn. One that was sturdy and tall enough to support ramparts all around the perimeter. WAIT, that reminds me, I need to get busy and take cuttings from my mature thorns to plant all around the island in Michigan. Buckthorn is so much easier than constructing an actual fence and I can start the work before things go upside down and we have to take the island as refuge. Pretend you didn’t read that.
I just finished my second round of shovel and only had to stop once to renew my ongoing war with the plow drivers. On the first pass he leaned in and knocked my recycling and garbage cans. After picking them up and resetting them in the new topography I waited as he needed to make a pass in the other direction. I shoveled along until I heard him coming at which point I dropped my shovel and went double birds full extension. Some things just feel right.