In New England choosing a snow removal method is kind of like choosing a religion. There’s the mainstream snowblower sect. Then there are those plow guys both the ones that mount it to their family truck and the ones who buy those ATV looking vehicles that zip around after major snowstorms cleaning off people’s driveways. They’re probably pagans or something. Then there are the hardliners who own a tractor to which they can attach plows, blowers, even trailers in which the snow can be collected. These guys are ready for the apocalypse. And finally, there are the fundamentalists; the shovel guys. To them moving the snow is the punishment we all deserve.
A week ago, I was walking in the haunted forests and swamps of Dunwich and observing the first little buds and leaves opening up on all the thorn bushes, briars and poison ivy vines. But now there’s eight inches of snow out there again!
And so, I spent Tuesday and today on snow removal. I skipped Wednesday because, dammit I’m an American. My weapons were the snowblower, the snow shovel and the ice scraping shovel (technically it’s a roofing shovel used to scrape the shingles off a roof, but it’s really good for smashing and scraping ice off a driveway). And I got all of the top driveway done and the lower driveway so-so.
And that’s just in time for tonight’s predicted one to four inches of new snow. Now what kind of prediction is 1-4 inches? When the maximum is 400% of the minimum it shouldn’t be called a prediction. Clueless guess is probably closer to the truth. But the last five hours of snow removal has brought me back to the zen-like state that eventually sets in near the end of a New England winter. And this is even true during extremely mild winters as we’ve had the last three or four years. Because an inch of ice can cause more grief and work than two feet of dry snow. In the zen state you abandon the idea of gritting your teeth and pushing through until spring. It’s too long. There are still seven weeks until snow is unlikely. So, you must embrace the crappy weather and become one with it.
And so there I was, lavishing loving attention on asphalt that needed the snow coaxed off of it with a light, almost delicate touch to the shovel at just the perfect angle to get it to peel off the pavement. I experienced ineffable contentment as I worked down the driveway six inches at a time. I had become a snow clearing zombie. And I loved Big Brother.
As you can tell I’m suffering from the last stages of cabin fever and I’m contemplating warning Camera Girl to abandon the Compound until spring when hopefully I’ll regain my sanity. She knows my weaknesses and it’s just too reminiscent of Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of Jack Torrance in the movie version of “The Shining.” If I do go berserk, I won’t use the weapons that Jack Torrance took up (a fire axe in the movie and a roque mallet in the book). I will instead embrace my most formidable weapon, bad puns. The poor woman.
Anyway, I’m enjoying the posting of my novel fragment. It’s cathartic to put it out in the real world and get feedback. I’ve been trying to figure out a strategy to get it in the public eye. I’m thinking about putting it on a crowd-funding site to see how much visibility that would give it. If anyone knows which sites are best for our side of the political spectrum, please chime in.