|Sacked out in Grandma's big bed.|
|I am always one for a little visual hyperbole.|
For many years, I was a single mom. From 1991 until 2006, I lived in northern Wisconsin with the three girls. Somehow, I always managed to get mountains of snow moved off sidewalks and driveways without mechanical means. And folks, I do mean MOUNTAINS! At times that meant that I would get little ones tucked into bed and sound asleep before I would venture out with shovel in hand. There were many 3 AM mornings when I had to clear snow before I got the family ready for school. My girls were shoveling by the time they could get their boots on the right feet without help. Even when I married and moved "south," I was often the one who made sure the snow was cleared. I just was never good about waiting until cars and feet had packed fluffy flakes into cement.
Last spring, dear friends gave me their deluxe snow-blower as they prepared to move to much sunnier and less snowy climes in South Carolina. I brought it home in the back of a rented pick-up in late February. I had no idea how to get it from truck to garage, so I just backed into a sizable snowbank and dumped the blower off the back end. Somehow, I got the machine into the garage, and just left it there for the duration of the winter--too scared to try to figure out how it worked.
|A ridiculous hat is always a great fashion accessory|
when there is the chance you may end up in the hospital
after the machine turns on you.
Today we had our first significant snowfall. As the flakes accumulated, I kept thinking about that machine sitting in my garage. I had had one short lesson in its operation months ago, but now was the time to prove myself. Better to show yourself as a fool in two inches of snow rather than a foot.
|Victory! Two of inches of snow removed!!|
I am woman. Hear my snow-blower roar!