The snowplows were out in full force today, cleaning up things for us, and of course dumping the requisite snow into our driveways. It’s a requirement of winter of course. I dunno about the rest of you, but I didn’t think the snow was too heavy for shovelling today. Well, as far as I could tell, Wendy didn’t seem to have any problems…..
Just look at how much she was getting into it, this is a gal who loves to shovel…..what form….what power…..better than a 10 horsepower snowblower.
I would have loved to have been able to help her then and there, but first I had to go around to the backyard and check on our hummingbird feeder in case we had any early arriving hummingbirds. It’s not likely the little fellas will be here yet, but you never know, and so I thought I better check. There weren’t any.
While I was out back, I took a picture of the snow on the veranda railing….I thought it was kind of important to capture it for posterity. These are things the kids will look at after I am long gone and remember me, wondering why I took a picture like this, but then laughing, saying, “That was just Dad, you know….he was crazy.”
I checked the backyard carefully for anything unusual, even watched some seagulls fighting over some food one of the neighbors put out for the birds. It was nice in the backyard. So peaceful after a snowstorm, the soft fluffy snow clinging to the branches of our neighbor’s spruce tree like snow in a winter scene oil painting. God had painted a lovely picture, with deft white brush strokes. I stood for a few minutes, just enjoying the beauty of it, until a bunch of snow fell off a branch on to my head. I moved over a bit….smiling at the wonder of mother nature, thinking she has a sense of humor as I felt the invigorating charm of cold wet icy snow going down the back of my shirt.
The little birds, chickadees I think, were gathering the seeds I put out. A crow called, alerting his kin to the food the seagulls were chowing down voraciously in the neighbors yard. I could barely hear the sounds of civilization, even though we live in a busy area, the snow on the road acting like a muffler on the road traffic. I didn’t even hear the snowplow coming by again, dropping some more snow in our driveway.
I stopped to listen to a strange clicking sound coming from a backyard a few houses away, “clickety-clickety-click” then some swear words, then some more, “clickety-clickety click” and more cussing. I stood still and cocked my ear in the direction of the sound, it was familar, yet strange, and the swearing, well it made me wonder. So I crept over to the fence and peered down the row of snow covered backyards.
There! About three yards over, a fellow trying in vain to get his snowblower to start. He pulled on the starter cord, then released it, “clickety-clickety-click.” He kicked the big red machine, then swore again…..mystery solved. I watched him quietly, considering offering some neighborly mechanical advice, you know, manly words, like, “Sounds like she’s not gettin’ any spark!” or “Try to choke her!” but changed my mind, and decided no comment was best considering my own snowblower wouldn’t start for me, and I had stuck it back in the shed last night, condemming it to Hades and everywhere in between.
I kinda lost track of time. My neighbor had finally given up, I watched in secret as he kicked his snowblower one more time before shoving it back under his deck. Been there done that, I thought to myself, unwittingly forming a silent bond with the guy, even though he was unaware of me, and the bond of snowblower brotherhood was entirely one sided.
I shoved my coat sleeve up and looked at my watch, almost lunch time, figured I better get out there and help Wendy with the shovelling. But by golly my girl is no slouch. By the time I got back she had the driveway cleared, bless her heart she had all the shovelling done!!
That was fantastic. I told her. She just kinda glared at me. Then I made what turned out to be a bit of a mistake…..and in hindsight, pardon the pun, was not a good idea at all……I asked what we were having for lunch.
© 2011 – 2012, Rob Dares. All rights reserved. Cottager Online/The Cottage Chronicles / Rob Dares material is copyrighted, please contact me if you wish to inquire about reposting etc All prices quoted for products are subject to change, customer is responsible to confirm price with seller.