I woke to the sound of plows and blowing snow along with a desire to stay in bed and avoid the inevitable shoveling. Several chapters and a few cups of coffee later, I finally layered up and headed into the frozen tundra where I pushed and prodded the snow off the driveway for a very, very long time.
I was cold and there was snow in my boots, gloves and a few other places as well when I finally finished. I was so exhausted I could hardly heave myself into the shower to warm up!
Then, my perspective took a 180 degree turn when I got a text about a marvelous igloo lovingly created from that same ice and snow. I suspect shovels, similar to mine, and energy, perhaps more than I expended on my driveway, were used to create this masterpiece. At first glance, it might look like a hole in the snow, but that ice and snow melded together with a bit of elbow grease into something memorable and wonderful, much like the igloos created by parents and grandparents when they too saw only magic in the snow.
4 comments:
Just goes to show that there is something exciting to be found in everything. I remember building snow forts as a kid and what fun we had with them. arjeha
Oh, how cool! My kids were lamenting about the fact that our snow was too powdery to build anything. (They were hoping to build a tunnel. However, getting 4-5" of snow, regardless of the consistency, wouldn't have yielded enough for a snow tunnel.)
Oh, Anita, that is magical. I loved the description of the weariness of shoveling and how you worked "for a very, very long time" and then the abrupt change to the magic of the igloo. So fun!
"...when they too saw only magic in the snow." Oh, I love the benediction in that perfect ending! I will admit that one of the best things about moving to a temperate clime is the absence of shoveling. Your description of overcoming the allure of a few more chapters and snuggly warmth—that sticks with me. Bravo, you!
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