It seems that just a few short weeks ago I was feeling smug as all get-out, because here in my little corner of Southern Ontario, there was almost no snow on the ground. All around us, the countryside, and her people had been inundated, with more than two foot of snow having fallen in some areas. But here, where we live, and through to twenty-five miles to the east, where my beloved works, there’d been next to no snow on the ground.
Yes, I should have recalled that old saw that pride goeth before a fall.
The good news is that the inexpensive, electric snow blower that Mr. Ashbury bought in November works very well. He’s found that if he goes out when there’re just a couple of inches of snow on the ground(and thereafter repeating the performance every couple of inches) he’s able to keep up with the accumulation.
The bad news is, we’re running out of places to pile the darn stuff.
This past Saturday the on line weather service we use reported the day would have partly cloudy periods with some snow flurries. Sounded like a good day to just stay inside, keep warm and follow our favorite pursuits. For me, that’s writing. For my beloved, it’s relaxing in his recliner and reading.
Somewhere around one in the afternoon, Mr. Ashbury said, “What the heck is going on out there? That doesn’t look like snow flurries to me. That looks like a major dumping in progress.”
Eight inches of white stuff later, my poor husband was outside for the third time in one day, pushing the electric blue monster down the sidewalk, around our car, and our next-door neighbour’s car, too.
Usually our town is very good about having the plows come along early on; this past weekend however, they were slower than usual.
Mr. Asbury swears the snow plow driver grinned with malicious intent when he pushed the snow up around our car as he passed, just minutes after he’d finished clearing it. I’m inclined to believe him.
We’ve been working in tandem with our neighbor this year—not something that we discussed before hand, it just sort of happened. The first couple of snow falls we got weren’t much, really. But when the young father of three who lives next door went outside to clear his sidewalk, he shovelled to the point where my new walkway joins the sidewalk, and then he did the walkway, too.
He did that the next time we got a small dusting, and I told him how much I appreciated it. Even a bit of the white stuff under my cane can send me flying.
I’ve discovered the hard way over the last couple of years that falling down is to be avoided at all costs.
So of course, the first time my husband brought the blue machine up out of the basement and took it outside, he did all of the sidewalk for our two houses, as well as the areas around our cars that of necessity have to park on the street.
And while this cooperation has been wonderful, and probably the brightest spot of the winter, we’re all a little bit weary of the need for it at this point.
Now we’ve been plunged into the deep freeze again, which means any snow ridges on walking or driving surfaces have now become ice ridges, and my coffee cup is again doubling as a hand and finger warmer.
It is a challenge to remember that spring really is just around the corner.
Morgan Ashbury is writing as Cara Covington!