I scooped and shoveled three times today. I like the sharp cold, the snowflakes like electrons, and the sound of the scoop against the asphalt. I like the piles of fluffy snow and the feel of my muscles shoving the heaps up a snow slope and over, dumping. Restart. I like the cold dark quiet solitude of the work.
I start on the deck, move to the driveway, and turn back to the deck: already covered again. The snow is light white crystals, easy to move. I breathe hard, look back at my work, look back at where I started, and start again. It's snowing hard.
I start on the deck, move to the driveway, and turn back to the deck: already covered again. The snow is light white crystals, easy to move. I breathe hard, look back at my work, look back at where I started, and start again. It's snowing hard.
