Jackie Wells-Fauth
Given the snow this week, I bet it’s no shock to anyone that I decided to write about shoveling snow! Anyone who tells you that they enjoy shoveling snow should be watched carefully and probably placed under medical treatment!
I have always loved that piece written about the woman from the South who was looking so forward to enjoying snow for the first time. With each entry, she graduates from childlike excitement to some frustration to realizing that the city snowplows hate her. She finally descends to cursing as yet another snow falls and at this point, I can relate to this woman.
Snow removal has always kind of been Roy’s thing. Especially when a few years ago I developed legitimate health issues. Before that, I did try to help, but usually, he got tired of my whining about my legs, my back, my cold face, etc., and would tell me to leave and he would figure it out.
I still do what I can. It’s easy to shovel steps and the back deck because I can just set the shovel on the snowy surface and push, until it falls off the edge. It makes for some funny snow trails, however, and I admit I don’t always clean those up as well as I could.
It’s a terrible shame, then, that I married a snow shoveling perfectionist. When he is done shoveling the driveway, it is pristine. You don’t find snow lines and every inch of the concrete drive is cleaned of snow. Even so, he will grab the big push broom each time he is out there and do some more sweeping, carving the edges so no snow dribbles back in the path.
You can imagine, then, his reaction when I am done casually pushing the majority of the snow off the steps or the deck. I am somewhat cranky about any criticism of my work, and he has learned over the years to be subtle in his comments. Still, I can feel the desperation in his attitude when he looks out at the deck and sees all the snow trails. I am so proud that I have done the work, so he does not dare say anything negative.
“I took care of the back steps and the deck;” I announce proudly when he walks in the door. “No need for you to do anything there,” and as he heads for the back deck, “No, really, don’t you dare do anything more.”
“I assume that it must have snowed again after you were done?” he asks, continuing to inspect at a safe distance.
“No! Why would you think that?”
“Well, the middle of the deck isn’t too bad, but it must have snowed under the porch swing and the grill,” he is a little more cautious now.
“It’s all right. I consulted with the porch swing and the grill and they agreed that I could leave the snow under there because we weren’t planning any picnics in the next few months,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Okay, well, I appreciate your help. Those snow trails down the middle of the deck will melt in the sun and make great ice trails. I always think walking on the deck should be an adventure.”
“I double-dog dare you to go out there and straighten that out,” I threatened, “cause I still have a snow shovel and I know how to use it.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” he answered dryly as he walked away.
No more was said about the snow shoveling for the rest of the day. I watched him carefully, but he is pretty crafty. Late in the afternoon, when I looked out the kitchen window, the snow trails were gone.
“Nice shoveling clean-up,” I said rather bitterly.
“What, me? I would never go out and clean up after the fine shoveling job you did. I can’t imagine who could have done that. Darn neighbors. What’s for supper?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe you should check with the neighbors.”
dropsinthewell 