Shoveling Snow: Akin to…

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Shoveling snow can be quite the experience.

Its akin to so many things depending on the particular circumstances.

On a bright crisp day, shoveling can be an exciting adventure. Sparkling flakes dazzle the eyes as mound upon mound beckons rambunctious play.

I can be refreshed by the brilliance and stirred by the clarity. And there’s some good exercise in there too.

Shoveling snow can also be like writing, oddly enough.

I outline my plan. “I’m going to start at the end of the driveway and push the piles to the right and left.” Then I work bit by bit. I survey, review, evaluate the best course and then apply all my effort to succeed.

And let me tell you, there is nothing more satisfying than completion. Such great pride in the finished product. But the hard work must come first.

Well yesterday was neither.

There was no joy, no pride, and absolutely no fun.

Yesterday the experience was akin to trudging through the depths of a frozen Hell.

It was relentless, demoralizing, painful, agonizing.

I began at my front door, sounds simple enough. I just push the snow off each step. Then I get to the bottom and, ugh, now I have to do something with the mountain I’ve created. After that pile had been shifted to one side, I nearly died gazing through the frosty haze at the oh-so-very-daunting scene before me.

The snow was up to my knees. It had fallen steadily from early morn and was not letting up. I had to make a dent it in. If not, there was no way my husband could get his car in the driveway.

Oh the joys of Canadian winters, the bitter onslaught that enslaves us in February. Once upon a time, we had decent winters. They began in late November and ended around end of January.

Now, in the part of the country I live in, winter practically begins end of January and rages all through February into March and even sometimes April.

This year, it got a spotty start. I heard people say, “Look at this, we’re halfway through February and I still see grass!” Ha! I knew better.

And here we are today surrounded by mountainous terrain enslaving our spirits, well okay, maybe just my spirit.

There are those who do love all of this wintry sparkle. I’m speaking of the skiers, the tobogganers, snowmobile-rs, the skaters and…my kids. They can’t get enough of it. The great summit of the almighty hill fashioned by the snow plows practically shouts to them at end of day.

Not me. Winter to me is cozy indoor rest.

Although, if the conditions are right, the sun is shining, I might toss the occasional snowball or slide down one toboggan hill, but that’s about it. I guess I’m getting old.

How much longer til spring? 🙂

Paula Antonello Moore, Writing & Thoughts. Copyright: Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Images of Glorious winter, by Me.