Snow. Snow. Snow.
I know Dusty, I feel the exact same way: yet more snow.
This means that we have passed through the first three stages of snow reaction:
1. joy and delight;
3. bitter complaining; and now we are on
(I think the fifth might be municipal bankruptcy, but I'm not sure.)
Our snow shoveling team now doesn't even bother to hope for a snow day anymore. Even if it means a day off school, they know it will be plenty of solid work as we struggle to clear a 300 foot driveway and a five car patient parking lot so my LSH can open for the day. We have always done it by ourselves, with our tiny little front loader and plenty of boy power. This wasn't a big deal until last year, when the snow seemed to quadruple from what we had in previous years. Suddenly, it became a very big deal indeed.
But we had a big change this morning:
My LSH threw in the towel and called a plow guy. I don't think there is a thing that he could have said that would have made the boys happier.
Hard to believe, as Mr. Weekend Farmer pointed out to me, that he took this picture three years ago, almost to the day. We haven't had a winter like that since -- and it made me thank the heavens that at least we aren't dealing with lambs right now!
* Yes, it is a joke. Apparently the whole "400 words for snow" thing is a hoax.