Every day I'm shovelin'

I didn't want to shovel.  It was the first measurable snow since November. I'd been praying and hoping and wishing for snow for months.  And yet, now that it was here, I resented it.

It had been a hard couple of weeks after a ragged year. Rick was gone again.  I had been struggling for some time to handle the emotional and tangible complications of our upcoming move, including the soul-sucking marathon of buying the tackiest house in southwest Texas.  Homeschooling and the girls' emotional needs and the neediness of a 5 month old puppy, mixed with not sleeping well, hormones, prolonged social isolation, and a to-do list that only seemed to grow...To steal a phrase from a much better writer, I felt "thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread." The cherry on top? It was my birthday.

I really didn't want to shovel.

But the girls were busy with school and the dog and the smallest, so I suited up and headed out.

I'm originally from the desert.  Snow isn't unheard of in northeastern Arizona, but it's more of the "couple inches for a couple days and then turns to mud" variety.  Up in Alaska, it's more like Mr. Gump's chocolates--you never know what you're going to get--and then it hangs out for months like an uninvited guest that isn't great with social cues.   My first experience with moving hundreds of cubic feet of snow was just over four years ago.  I remember my delight in making the first foothills that would rise into the mighty Caradhras over the course of the winter.  I have shoveled so much snow since then.

So.

Much.

Snow.

Light, glittery snow that whispers like sand.  Heavy, slushy snow that's like shoveling wet concrete. Fluffy flakes so large you can see each brachiation, small and hateful stinging pellets, and everything in between.  All of it has to be cleared away if you want to leave your house.

Shoveling gives you time to think.  Mostly you think about how much your arms hurt and try to figure the absolute minimum of white devil-dust you have to move to get out of the garage.  You learn a couple of tricks over time.

First, acknowledge that it's coming.  Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but the snow will eventually come whether you want it or not.  Be ready.

Once the snow starts, lean forward.  Don't wait until the storm has finished before you start shoveling.  It is much easier to shovel an inch every few hours than it is to shovel ten at the end.

Use the right tools. You can move snow with the wrong ones, but it will cost you in time, effort, and broken shovels.  Snow-blowers and four-wheelers with plow attachments are even better.

Have a plan. When you're shin-deep in snow, it can be overwhelming to know where to begin. Some people start at the bottom of the driveway and work toward the house.  Others start at the top and push everything down to the sidewalk, then over.  Push, throw, carry. The particulars don't matter. Find what works for you and go with it.

Pace yourself. If you can get your driveway done in one go, cool.  If you have to take a break half-way through, do it.  If it builds up for a day or two before you can get to it, oh well.  You know your limits; be kind to yourself.  The snow's not going anywhere until April anyway.

Do what you can.  If  all you can manage today is to scrape two thin tracks down the driveway directly behind your tires, then that's fine. I've done it.  I've driven past my more industrious neighbors and backed over my driveway a couple of times to pack the snow down and never touched a shovel.  No regrets.  Something is better than nothing, and next time you can do more.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with hiring someone.  Whether it's for the season or just for a storm, it's fine to get a professional. It doesn't mean you failed. The same goes for asking for help.  Most people are willing to lend a shovel if they know it's needed.

Sometimes help comes on its own.  Mostly it doesn't.  I'll never forget stumping outside with my shovel in hand, almost in tears at the work ahead, to find a friend unloading his snowblower and making tracks down my driveway. That was a great day.  Most days, though, it'll just be you and the shovel, huffing across the ice.  Don't let it poison you.  People don't owe you their time or labor; they have their own snow to move.  At the end of it all, your driveway is your driveway. 

Most importantly, when you can, pay it forward.  Some days you can barely manage your own driveway. That's okay.  However, when you have a little extra to give, take that shovel and walk over to your neighbor's.  You don't have to talk, just start pushing snow and building up mountains.  You never know what it's going to mean to someone.  It can make all the difference in their day.

And that's it.  If you have some nagging suspicion that I'm not really talking about snow, well, that's up to you.    

In the meantime, I'll be shoveling if you need me.