shovelling out

I wrote this piece early in the morning, prior to facing the foot or so of snow in our driveway. I had an appointment for an interview later in the morning: Kathleen Hay, the arts reported for the Cornwall Standard-Freeholder, was coming over to do a piece on the anniversary of wordcurrents, and I wanted her to be able to access the house. As well, Flora had to get out for her curling in the afternoon.

I was surprised that the shoveling did not completely crush me, leave me aching and breathless as I expected it to. I was shoveling for close to an hour in a pretty stiff wind, moving snow that was about ten inches deep except where it swirled around the house in a two foot deep drift. (Interesting: we say "two foot" instead of "two feet". I wonder why that is?) When I went to the door to let Kathleen in, I noted that the plow had passed and left a foot-deep bank across the driveway. It never fails.



The snow really was aniu. It chopped into blocks easily, nut was hard to scoop, as large sections broke away, too big for the scoop, and would tend to tumble off inconveniently. So I guess I don't feel quite as much like the old guy approaching the particular multiple of ten anniversary that I am approaching; I feel more like that number minus ten or so.