Mid-March.
Herald of spring? Not here!
39 inches of snow on the driveway,
Over four feet of hardpack where the county plowed us in.
Our road looks like an Olympic luge run.
Appreciative of the county crews and passable road,
Pissed off at the wall of snow.
I walk to the edge, ready to scoop,
Drifts up to my shoulders.
I lift the shovel…
Hopeless. I retreat into the house.
See you in July?
A couple of hours later, my neighbor Patrick arrives with his shovel.
His plan – make a path and then bring in the snowblower.
I meet him at the edge of the drive.
With help, I have hope.
He starts on the roadside.
I start inside.
Shovel full of hardpack,
An inch or two pushed to the side.
Huffing and puffing, we make a little progress.
Seth comes across the street.
He’ll bring over his monster truck and help pack it down.
Oh no, he’s high-centered, stuck!
With winch attached to a tree in his yard,
He manages to free the truck.
Now only 18 inches at the edge.
We keep shoveling.
Finally Patrick can use the snowblower.
From feet to inches to move out of the way.
Don drives by in a Jeep with a plow,
Hastening our progress.
At long last, four-foot piles to the side,
Only a coating on the drive.
Three “power tools,” three kind men, and two hours later,
It’s done! I can get the car out.
I am sore. I am tired. I am grateful.