The last time a blizzard invited me to participate in person was 35 years ago. I was in Rhode Island and getting ready to turn 7 years old. Did I just reveal my age? Ah well. I remember standing inside my neighbor and best friend's house, looking out the storm door at all the snow and wondering when my dad would get home. I forget now exactly how he made it home, but he did, safe and sound. And, if memory serves correctly, I think my friend's father was one of the folks whose car got stranded along I-95, and he actually walked home from there.
That was a lengthy and likely dangerous proposition.
Fast forward to today, and this is what greeted me when I opened the door this morning.
Just a rather small, manageable wall of snow
There actually are steps under there
Steps begin to emerge
With the deck done, I pondered next steps. This is what lies in wait.
See the particularly big lump at the
bottom of the stairs?
My landlords shovel a path around to the back of the house so the oil company can get through and fill us up if need be. Usually I continue with the clearing and open up the rest of the walkway. Today, however, I think good enough is good enough and I'll leave just that small path through the snow. I'll focus my efforts on digging out the car.
But first, warmth, lunch and possibly a nap are in order.
After all, moderation is wise, is it not?