There is a lot of good to be said about snow.
At the moment, however, the only good thing I can think of is it looks nice on a Christmas card, especially if one was to receive the card while sitting on a sandy beach somewhere sipping something cold and delicious through a straw.
They say no two snowflakes are alike.
I say, ‘who cares?’
I mean really who has time to check out the shape or size of a snowflake. And who in their right mind would say, “oh, look there’s another pretty little snowflake coming down? How wonderful! Maybe I can catch it on my tongue or let it fall gently on my mittened hand and gaze in wonder at its beauty.
I, personally, have given up on trying to find any beauty in snow, falling or otherwise. I have decided, instead, to focus on the beauty of my snow shovel.
My snow shovel and I have spent a lot of time together lately. In fact, it would be correct to say we are close, joined at the hip, so to speak.
Together we have attacked all kinds of snow; fluffy snow, hard snow, icy snow and massive snowdrifts.
And, in the end, we usually, though not always, triumph.
In fact, even though I did most of the work, (alas, my shovel is not magic), we cleared a path from my front door, down the sidewalk, and found my driveway where the roof of my vehicle was clearly visible.
And so it came to be that my snow shovel and I unearthed the vehicle, which had remained intact under the snowdrift. And after much coaxing and prodding and pleading on my part, the car groaned, turned over and actually started.
It was a miracle.
The miracle ended, however, at that point, because when I attempted to drive out of my driveway and’ gun’ the motor (I heard some guys who were dressed in grease stained overalls and looking under my car’s hood use that term), the car became immediately and soundly stuck.
I tried to ‘rock’ it like guys who drive a lot say to do when in that situation, but it would not be rocked, and, instead I found the wheels spun deeper into the icing sugar snow.
As can be expected, once again, I called on my trusty shovel and together we proceeded to get my car ‘unstuck.’ And so I shoveled. Still stuck. I shoveled some more. Still stuck.
At this point, I resorted to womanly wiles and let a few tears run in frozen rivulets down my cheeks.
Finally, I noticed a guy down the street who was also stuck. He wasn’t crying, only shoveling, but it seemed, to no avail. And so I trudged down the street, and offered to help push, because that’s what neighbors are supposed to do in this weather.
And so I pushed and his wife pushed and before we knew it he, or at least his vehicle, was unstuck.
And then they came down the street and pushed me out and we got all friendly and chatty and took our frozen mitts off and shook hands. And we agreed that we all knew what snowploughs were, but we had almost forgotten what they looked like, because they had not graced our subdivision that winter.
And then we went our separate ways, happily done complaining, and turned on our car radios and listened to the cheerful announcer say, “more snow expected.”
And I said “whatever, it’s okay. I have a snow shovel but I also have neighbours who will lend a helping hand, if needed.
And I will get by.
A little dose of kindness beats a snow shovel any day!
— On The Other Side