Another pile of global warming is outside my front window. Snow is always one of those double-edged swords. I love it. I love playing in it, looking at it, I love all the paraphernalia. The hats, and mittens, the boots, the hot chocolate (especially the hot chocolate!) the sleds, I love it all! (Except maybe skis. Never could handle those buggers.)
But, of course, there's a downside. Someone's gotta get all that white stuff out of the way so you can drive to the sled hill, to the store to buy chocolate, and, yes, I suppose, to work. Now, our Someone, Farmer John, grew up in the UP, where snowfall, apparently, isn't measured until it's in the double digits. He asserts that we don't get enough snow here to worry about clearing it. But I wonder, after 30+ years of living "here in the South," why he hasn't picked up on the different quality of our snow? It's usually wet and heavy, as opposed to the soft, powdery stuff he speaks of. So clearing it can be a bit of a problem.
We have a snowblower. It's a decent one, but it has it's issues. Farmer John hasn't always dealt with those issues in a timely manner, citing our "lack of measurable snowfall" as reason to not stress about rebuilding a snowblower carburetor. Instead, he leaves that up to his minions, who shovel and pile and sometimes write uncomplimentary blog posts about him.
But the Main Minion is down and out for about 6 weeks. The Stormtrooper boots aren't made for the snow, sadly, and so I worried about how to get this job done today.
Enter Desi, our neighbor across the street. Although we seldom talk to our neighbors, the country being that way, sometimes, he will always show up after (what we call) a measurable snowfall with his trusty Bobcat. In minutes, our driveway is cleared. It saves the minions hours of shoveling and cussing. And it's something we're very, very thankful for. Later this evening, I'll have John take him a Peterman Pastured Turkey in thanks. And maybe an adult beverage...