Mosaics I made this past winter when I wasn't shoveling snow.
We had an AWFUL winter! I even wrote a snow-shoveling tutorial, which you can read here:
Due to a
polar vortex, we have been subjected to frequent snowfalls, alternated with
tooth-squeakingly cold temperatures. For the benefit of my friends in “warmer”
parts of the planet which will undoubtedly soon experience a drastic change in
climate, I volunteer these handy tips for efficient snow management.
One must
determine, based on contradictory shamanic predictions, whether or not to
shovel while the snow is still falling. If 12 inches are predicted, is it
better to wait until it stops, and risk getting a heart attack from the extreme
weight of each shovelful? Or should one get a head start on it and shovel at 6
inches, only to turn around and see all your labor completely eradicated by the
freshly fallen layer? Why bother shoveling anyway? It will probably melt in a
few months. Well, where I live, one can be fined for not shoveling. Snow gets
much harder to scrape off the sidewalks once it has been trampled by pesky
neighbors and postal carriers bearing junk mail and unpaid bills. And if
someone slips on your dangerous walkways, you risk being sued and dragged
through the courts for the rest of your life. So shovel.
You must be
sufficiently dressed to withstand frostbite, as well as overheating. The secret
is LAYERING. Start with 2 pairs thick socks under tall, tire-tread soled boots.
Cover your socks with plastic bags if your boots leak. 2 or 3 pairs of gloves
are necessary to avoid numbing of the fingers. Layer thermal underwear,
sweater, your warmest waterproof coat, and a wide woolen scarf. Do not wear
white or you may get hit by a car. With all these layers, it may be a challenge
to remain mobile. This is good practice in case one becomes homeless. But of
course, then one need not shovel.
Decorative
headgear, such as a Peruvian ski-mask with a large-brimmed floppy hat and
rhinestone jewelry, amuses passers-by. Fasten all decorations securely to the
hat, and do not use feathers since they are too easily dislodged by stiff gusts
of frigid air. Keep some tissues or antique flowered hankies in your pocket
because your nose will drip.
Begin by
loudly singing inappropriate summery songs. Start shoveling at the front door
where your shovel has been conveniently hidden out of view, since shovels are
easily stolen. Ours once was. Keep a spare just in case.
Most people
admire our spacious front porch. But when it’s full of snow, one can easily be
convinced that smaller is better. Shovel the entire porch in a criss-crossed
pattern, throwing the snow on to the garden. Be sure to bend your knees when
lifting the shovel. Steps should be shoveled and then swept, and probably
salted. Estimate the exact location of your sidewalk by memory. Shovel in a
wavy pattern just to amuse yourself. If your neighbors are out of town, shovel
their sidewalk too, since pedestrians will track snow that belongs to someone
else on to your property.
Say hello
to every passer-by just to disarm them. Due to exertion, you will eventually
need to remove a few of you layers of clothing. When you become snow-blind,
just close your eyes for a few minutes until the positive/negative optical
effects fade. Think about what a great workout you’re getting ABSOLUTELY FREE :
abs, biceps, back, lungs, knees, and many other parts you were never aware of.
Continue
shoveling along the side of your house and back to the garbage cans. By this
time, the front very possibly will have filled in again, so you can start over.
Take a breath for just a moment and look around at this winter wonderland. The
streets are a slippery obstacle course of filthy mounds and ridges alternated
with pot-holes. Driving is treacherous. Mountains of accumulated snow punctuate
each intersection. You may consider the possibility that the temperature will
never again rise over 10 degrees, the snow will never melt but continue to
accumulate until the entire house is buried, and your garden will never grow
back. Don’t think about it. Congratulate yourself on a job well done. Go back
into your cozy little house and dump the snow out of your boots, peel off the
layers, lie on the floor and curl into the fetal position for a while. Don’t
listen to the radio announcer predicting twenty inches for tomorrow. If the
doorbell rings, and an eager teenager offers to shovel your snow for $5.00,
don’t cry.
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