Shovel Time

Yesterday's snow shoveling provided ample time to think, especially as there was nearly a foot of white stuff covering the driveway. First, I figured out why Big Guy went to work--that would be to limit his shoveling to two tire tracks worth of driveway. Second, I dwelled a bit on how I was moving mountains of snow while Birdie snuggled in bed reading a library book. I quit dwelling when Birdie appeared a few minutes later. I observed the elves across the street briskly shoveling their driveway. The elves grew up in a war torn east European country. As a young couple, with a baby, they were kicked out for believing in God their way. I wondered if they missed their childhood winters of endless snow. Probably not. But they shovel really well. Once they cleared their driveway and sidewalk, they shoveled the trolls' sidewalk and even a path from the troll mailbox to the troll front door. Elves keep busy. Although I wish they would rethink surrendering the cookie business to the Girl Scouts. Not a single Girl Scout has tempted me with Thin Mints. Neighborhood kids emerged. An eight-year-old convinced another eight-year-old to be partners in a snowball fight against a five-year-old and four-year-old. Not a fair fight, but eventually the younger ones will become the older ones and a new set of babes will be pummelled with snowballs. At some point, Birdie determined we were done shoveling. I reminded her about the walk to the front door. I cleared it while she swept snow from cars. Much later, the mailman trudged up the walk to deliver the mail. I was glad I cleared the way for him. I would have been happier, if he were a Girl Scout with a cookie order. With all that shoveling, I earned my Thin Mints.