I sometimes think of column ideas at odd times—in the middle of a meeting, in the shower or driving down the road. This week my column idea struck as I was shoveling snow.
I realized that I have not written a column yet this winter about how much I like snow. I love it when I’m snowmobiling along a trail with snow-draped pines or when I’m snowshoeing cross country through sparkling fresh snow. I love it when the grandkids are making snowmen or snow angels or even when they throw snowballs at me. I love watching a dog sled glide silently down a trail during a race. I love tossing snowballs to my young-at-heart golden retriever, Fearless. I love just sitting on my couch with a cup of hot tea, watching big fluffy flakes filter slowly down from heaven.
And, yes, I even enjoy snow when I’m shoveling it—or perhaps especially when I’m shoveling it. Shoveling has got to be one of the best exercises in the world—the original cross training. It offers something for your entire body—aerobics and strength training.
Of course, I don’t want to shovel my entire deck. It is much too big.
Yes, my little brother Ryan tried to tell me we didn’t need that much deck. He tried to convince me that I would eventually hate having to scrape and stain all the wood in the summer and shovel it in the winter. He is partially right. I hate it when the wood starts looking weathered and we have to scrub it and re-stain it.
But I really don’t mind snow removal. In truth, that is because we have an amazing little snow blower that is fun to run around the deck— up the ramp at the back, around and around the house, cutting away at the snowdrifts. Usually by the time I am done I look like the Abominable Snowman, covered in snow with frozen hair and eyebrows.
I still have to shovel the steps but there are only three sets of them so it isn’t so bad. It’s just about the right amount of exercise.
The snow blower broke when we had our really big snowstorm in February. I had just used the snow blower to create a swath up the ramp and it got caught on a piece of rope from our bird feeder pulley system. The rope snarled the snow throwing mechanism and it simply stopped.
My husband Chuck was off plowing the several driveways he keeps open, so I was on my own. I figured I would start shoveling while I waited for him to get home. I shoveled the back deck and steps and felt pretty good. I moved around to the west end of the house and shoveled that deck and the steps. I was getting a bit tired.
I almost quit when I started on the front deck, which had an over-theknee deep snowdrift on all of its 48 feet. However, by that time, it was a matter of principle and pride. I could do it.
Like the Little Engine That Could I dug in. And dug, and dug, and dug. By the time I was halfway done, my arms were in muscle failure and I could barely lift the shovel over the railing to toss the snow.
But I stubbornly shoveled on, and on, and on. I eventually finished. Just a few minutes before Chuck returned from his plowing adventure to easily get the snow blower started, of course.
But I felt that I had truly accomplished something. And for the next few days, I felt it every time I moved. I don’t think I will do that again. If the snow blower breaks again, I will patiently wait for it to be repaired.
But as long as it is working, I enjoy clearing the whole deck by myself. As the snow blower shoots its bright white plume into the yard, I enjoy the scenic landscape that is my yard with its snow-covered pines and glistening birches. As I dig out the steps I have time to think about how very blessed I am to live in a winter wonderland.
Well, I know now. I know a little
more how much a simple thing like a
snowfall can mean to a person.
Sylvia Plath
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