Let it Blow, Let it Blow, Let it YIKES!
Dec. 27th, 2010 03:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanJust woke up and did the Oh-Dark-Thirty shovelling of my tiny scrap of sidewalk. It really isn't a lot of concrete to worry about, except that my house faces north and is in the middle of the row, so this time of year the front walk is perpetually in shadow. If you don't keep it clear, icebergs form out there, and taunt you with your puny muscles and plastic implements should you be foolish enough to think you can remove them before the city fathers descend with grim satisfaction to leave you a twenty-five dollar ticket.
Not that I'd be the one to pay it, mind. I rent, and there are people upstairs who own. But I also am on the first floor, and have made myself acquainted with the little old ladies and gentlemen down the street whose necks are on the line. So I shovel.
Sometimes, it's an exercise in futility -- or seems to be. This is one of those storms where the snow keeps packing up against the side of the house, and up the front stairs, and even all the way up the doorjamb, so that when you open the door there's a crust of the cold stuff that hangs there like some kind of mad arctictect's idea of cleverness. "Look, if we make the doorway a more Interesting Shape, you can impress people with you agility as you leap past the layers!"
Or knock the snow off with your broom, whichever.
Then, of course, you have to unbury the steps. I am seriously envious of the people next door, who spent money this year to add a second door at the bottom of their steps. It's not an uncommon thing to do -- I'd say that more than half of the buildings on this side of the street have enclosed their entryways. But we haven't, so the shovel has to be employed before you can even take a step outside.
The wind, the way it is tonight, won't let you close the door properly if you've forgotten your keys. You can see it sending snow skirling up into the hall, like Marley's ghosts skittering up to go see Scrooge. Best to shovel quick, and get back inside.
One step, two, three, four. I shoveled before I went to bed and cleared these steps, but you'd never know it. The wind has drifted the snow into piles so deep that not even boots would save me if I were fool enough to step into one of the delicate shapes.
Which are HEAVY! For all that the wind is pushing the snow around like it might be the powdery kind, truth is, this close to the ocean, the snow has plenty of moisture. Just clearing the steps has me puffing a bit. Thank goodness for nice long heavy scarves.
The wind has actually cleared half the sidewalk, almost to the pavement, but that means more has piled up beside the building. I go along, breaking up the drift and pitching it out to where the wind picks it up. I'm only clearing half the sidewalk tonight. Boston has funny rules. If you don't shovel, you get fined, but if you throw the snow into the street, you get fined more. Not really a problem at the moment. Give this stuff a bit of loft and it instantly becomes someone else's mess. The wind is worse than the snow right now. I'm halfway along the walk when a gust picks up and tries to lift me and my shovel along with the snow. It's all I can do to just stand and wait for it to ease up, watching the snow swirl away down the street and pile up against trees and cars and other people's steps.
By the time I get to the end of my stretch of sidewalk -- and we're talking about a stretch that I can walk on a normal day in fewer than four seconds -- there is already a thin layer of snow on the steps. I dash inside and catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. My coat is coated with snow, and so are my hat and scarf. My hands are mumbling imprecations at me -- next time I better remember my mittens.
But at least inside it is warm. And quiet. If I listen now I can hear the wind. It's so muffled by snow I'd underestimated it before I went out, but I've got it's measure now. Time to crawl back under the covers and wait for the alarm to go off once again. I expect by then, the stairs will be buried and all. But I don't mind. I've already seen what the neighbors' walks look like, and I'm well ahead of the game.
Let it snow!
Not that I'd be the one to pay it, mind. I rent, and there are people upstairs who own. But I also am on the first floor, and have made myself acquainted with the little old ladies and gentlemen down the street whose necks are on the line. So I shovel.
Sometimes, it's an exercise in futility -- or seems to be. This is one of those storms where the snow keeps packing up against the side of the house, and up the front stairs, and even all the way up the doorjamb, so that when you open the door there's a crust of the cold stuff that hangs there like some kind of mad arctictect's idea of cleverness. "Look, if we make the doorway a more Interesting Shape, you can impress people with you agility as you leap past the layers!"
Or knock the snow off with your broom, whichever.
Then, of course, you have to unbury the steps. I am seriously envious of the people next door, who spent money this year to add a second door at the bottom of their steps. It's not an uncommon thing to do -- I'd say that more than half of the buildings on this side of the street have enclosed their entryways. But we haven't, so the shovel has to be employed before you can even take a step outside.
The wind, the way it is tonight, won't let you close the door properly if you've forgotten your keys. You can see it sending snow skirling up into the hall, like Marley's ghosts skittering up to go see Scrooge. Best to shovel quick, and get back inside.
One step, two, three, four. I shoveled before I went to bed and cleared these steps, but you'd never know it. The wind has drifted the snow into piles so deep that not even boots would save me if I were fool enough to step into one of the delicate shapes.
Which are HEAVY! For all that the wind is pushing the snow around like it might be the powdery kind, truth is, this close to the ocean, the snow has plenty of moisture. Just clearing the steps has me puffing a bit. Thank goodness for nice long heavy scarves.
The wind has actually cleared half the sidewalk, almost to the pavement, but that means more has piled up beside the building. I go along, breaking up the drift and pitching it out to where the wind picks it up. I'm only clearing half the sidewalk tonight. Boston has funny rules. If you don't shovel, you get fined, but if you throw the snow into the street, you get fined more. Not really a problem at the moment. Give this stuff a bit of loft and it instantly becomes someone else's mess. The wind is worse than the snow right now. I'm halfway along the walk when a gust picks up and tries to lift me and my shovel along with the snow. It's all I can do to just stand and wait for it to ease up, watching the snow swirl away down the street and pile up against trees and cars and other people's steps.
By the time I get to the end of my stretch of sidewalk -- and we're talking about a stretch that I can walk on a normal day in fewer than four seconds -- there is already a thin layer of snow on the steps. I dash inside and catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. My coat is coated with snow, and so are my hat and scarf. My hands are mumbling imprecations at me -- next time I better remember my mittens.
But at least inside it is warm. And quiet. If I listen now I can hear the wind. It's so muffled by snow I'd underestimated it before I went out, but I've got it's measure now. Time to crawl back under the covers and wait for the alarm to go off once again. I expect by then, the stairs will be buried and all. But I don't mind. I've already seen what the neighbors' walks look like, and I'm well ahead of the game.
Let it snow!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 12:00 pm (UTC)A merry, blessed Christmas, my friend!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 01:57 pm (UTC)That stuff is HEAVY.
(And we're not used to it yet. This year, the snow in Boston went:
flake...flake... Flakityflake...
FLAKE!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 02:59 pm (UTC)*sends hobbits with hot soup and encouraging summery songs*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 03:29 pm (UTC)*raises my shovel in salute*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 05:16 pm (UTC)Boston has funny rules. If you don't shovel, you get fined, but if you throw the snow into the street, you get fined more.
That isn't just Boston... well, I don't know what the fines are comparatively speaking. But throwing snow into the street is a definite no-no! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 06:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:19 am (UTC)Hooray for layers!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 06:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-27 08:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:21 am (UTC)At this point, all I need to worry about is drifting, and as the snow is freezing into the piles it won't be too much of a problem.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:03 am (UTC)We're lucky that the apartment building where we rent plows for us, but we do have to move our cars before a particular time. Today the snow wasn't so much a problem as the fact that we were without power most of the day :\ Brr! Did you ever lose it?
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 12:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-28 11:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-29 01:24 am (UTC)Nanook of the North raises a glass to Faithful Servant Igor. Think of trying to get a whopping great turkey home on a sled, through the depths of a Denver blizzard...
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-29 01:32 am (UTC)Although it didn't half measure up to Omaha in '75, I must admit.
Go Nanook, Go!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-01 05:58 pm (UTC)