|With great property comes|
My hesitation begins with what I perceive as a storage problem. I don't like a cluttered garage and even the smallest of snowblowers take up a decent amount of space. There is also the issue of pride. Yes, pride. For I feel no man my age, who is in fine physical condition if I do say so myself, is above shoveling his walkway. No matter how much snow is out there. This is my land, and I am its caretaker. Granted, my walkway goes to the corner and then halfway to the next block since I live on a corner property. Still, I see it as my exercise for the day. (Note to self: Don't ever buy a corner property again. Oh, but the big backyard is so nice. NO. Don't. Do. It.)
There was a winter where it seemed to snow every week. Sometimes twice a week. That's when the snowblower talk started. I was physically exhausted and getting sick from all of the shoveling and sweating. We've had a couple of mild winters since. So I felt the snowblower was an unnecessary luxury. Then this ridiculously-named storm came along, dumping a foot-plus of snow on our frontier of a property. And there I was, shoveling away. First, clearing a little path so Luna could pee. Then expanding it so the neighbors could walk. I even break through that crusty, plowed, caked-in snow and ice that the town piles up on the corner, just to provide a walkway for people crossing the street. I'm a hell of a neighbor, eh?
|Step 1: Luna's gotta go|
|Step 2: Do my neighborly duty|
|Step 2.5: Be a REALLY good neighbor|
and clear the corner
|Just when I think I'm done,|
I turn the corner.
As I sit here typing, a cup of hot cocoa cools on the counter next me. My completed work is visible through the front window, the glistening scene of a freshly-cleared driveway and sidewalk providing a sense of accomplishment. My muscles relaxed after a hot shower. I must admit My Director helped me in the end. Once it was time to dig out the driveway itself. She cleared three shovels full, spotted our next-door neighbor, and struck up a conversation for 15 fifteen minutes. Only to return and declare, "This is hard."
Yes, it is. It is hard, fulfilling work. Work that leaves my fingers the only parts of my body that can move right now. A sense of accomplishment, but also a sense of the inevitable.
I need a snowblower. We're going to get one this time. really, we are. Once they go on sale this spring.
The winter that started the snowblower conversation was one for the record books. I wrote about that HERE.