Wow! What a Winter Wonderland!

Boy, do we have snow. "Between 12 and 20 inches" according the local meteorologist. It's hard to tell, actually, because the high winds we had last night blew some spots barren, and piled others with 3 foot drifts. Fortunately, the 'hurricane blizzard' did not materialize. Predictions called for 75 mph winds in some areas; while we had high gusts and a heavy winds, they weren't that severe.

I spent most of the morning either shoveling, or trudging through calf-deep snow towing a sled laden with a battery half a mile. A friend with a a plow truck was in urgent need of a battery: the vehicle wasn't going anywhere without one. I had a sled; I had an extra battery. Low tech bails out high tech. The Little Princess came with; the Big Guy stayed home with a bone. I helped shovel a bit once the battery was in, then came back and re-shoveled the paths to the bird feeders, and expanded the dog paths in the yard.

Yes, I shovel paths for the pups. The Big Guy is too old to be wallowing through deep snow. His hips won't take it. I'm keeping an eagle eye on him when he's out. He can't take himself for walks any more. If he falls over in deep snow, he can't get up.

I'm incredibly thankful that Jeff The Plow Guy came. There was a bank of heavy, packed snow at the top of the drive. The town plow came through at 2 a.m., and then not again until just before noon. The mountain the plow spewed at the head of the drive was waist deep and easily 15 feet wide. Too much for me to tackle. I stick to paths.

The pups want to be wherever Mommy is. When I'm out shoveling their labyrinth, they walk about a bit, then stand near the house, looking cold and unhappy. I walk towards the door.

They brighten! "We're going in?"

'No, sweet peas, YOU'RE going in."

They mope. No kidding, they mope. Slowly, they drag themselves to the stoop,
up the 2 small steps, into the house. I leave them behind the storm door, so at least they can see I'm not doing anything exciting without them.

They both stand at the door and look dejected. Lips sinking down, ears drooping. I'm on one side of the door, they're on the other. "Can't we come out?"

Weren't these the same two who were just fussing to get out of the wind? Perhaps they were looking out for my best interests: 'It's cold and windy, we're cold and bored, so we want you to be warm and safe because we want to be inside. With you.'

I cleaned up a few more paths, and filled the bird feeders before heading in. The number and variety of birds has doubled in the past week -- it's the end of the season, other food sources have vanished, and the feeders are hung in sheltered areas. AS I finish shoveling and topped off the feeders, I could hear dozens of birds in the bushes and trees, singing encouragement for me to hurry along -- 'we want to dine!'

The dogs are now sacked out, snoozing. The birds are happily emptying the feeders. I'm inside blogging, a cup of hot apple cider nearby. Driveway is clean, paths are shoveled. All's right with the world.