It’s a wide, wild country filled with more than a fair share of good people, potential and frozen precipitation, and I’m pretty sure enough funny things will happen each week around here to keep me amused for the next 40 years.
(In another 40 years I’ll be over 100-years old, shuffling to the Roaster coffee shop with my red long johns hanging out the back of my baggy pants and griping about the cold. Likely, I won’t be amused either about the icy sidewalks).
["Why do people try to back up over this stuff?"]
When I looked out the front window and saw the large ice dam at the end of the driveway this morning I smiled.
“Your work is cut out for you today,” I said to my wife.
Neighbours were spinning their wheels at the end of their drive, their car perched firmly upon their own pile of ice, going nowhere. For a long time.
["A metal spade. The right tool for the job": photos GH]
A metal shovel is what we’ll need, I thought. My spade is in the shed. I’d better skip the coffee and get dressed.
Over an hour later the shovelling job was done. But because our city’s snow clearing policy (and my own) is based on moving the snow around rather than actually removing the snow from the streets, I’m pretty sure I’ll be back at it tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that.
It’s darn good exercise and the coffee always tastes better after a bit of slugging.
After I stomped the snow off my boots I observed a typical Canadian scene on the porch.
Christmas or wintery decor surrounded by a bunch of well-used shovels.
Oh Canada!
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