the last shovel

Snow is falling in Minneapolis, and I couldn't be happier. Dave has been doing the lion's share of housework recently, and I was sad that he hasn't left any of the shoveling to me. Tonight I finally got my chance as he put some finishing touches on the new stair banister. The peace of a fresh snow is so wonderful, and I'm glad to live in a city that gets a real winter. I like to get out before the neighbors start up their snow-blowers, spewing grey smoke and roaring down the sidewalk. The love of snow-blowing must run deep, since our neighbors on both sides (who normally won't stop for a simple hello) will take the time to clear our walk for us.

I don't think we've had snow like this before Christmas for a few years, so it's nice to be looking out at a landscape of white instead of the dead grass and garden remains. I've always said I'm more of a winter person than a summer person, though the last few summers have been so fabulous they've nearly eclipsed my love for winter. During the July and August heat this year, I yearned for a time when I could hunker down, hide behind the sweat pants and blankets and enjoy the winter weather. Mother nature is delivering, and I'm delighted. The world can through wrenches in my path (family turmoil, a broken furnace) but nothing can ruin the fun of shoveling freshly fallen snow.