Snow, snow! Hee hee!

The snow continues.  It started on Friday, and when we woke up on Saturday morning, it looked like this: 

Those schip laurels are taking quite a beating.  And the deck:

It didn't stop snowing until after dark on Saturday, so it looked like this on Sunday morning. 

All told, we ended up with somewhere north of eighteen inches.  The first snow plow came through on Monday.  I'm not complaining, mind you.  I live in a good-government county responsive to its citizens and with a good snow-removal track record.  (All you anti-tax folks griping about how the snow plows haven't visited your street yet, take notice.)  If they couldn't get to our street, which is the best and safest way to the elementary school, and therefore a priority road, then they couldn't.  Yesterday, we managed to go out for a few provisions, and then we got the car good and stuck in front of the house trying to park it when we got back.  The Man decided to shovel a path across the deck to an emergency back-up dog potty area, which left us with a deck looking like this:

And then, around four in the afternoon, it started snowing again.  This morning, the yard looks like this:

And the deck:

No, they aren't blurry.  The snow is coming down hard and it's windy, therefore:  blizzard.  Maybe not by Manitoban standards, but for Our Nation's Capital, it's a blizzard.  I don't expect we'll be dug out until maybe Friday, and the anti-tax non-good-government people in the neighboring jurisdiction may well be stuck until Saturday or Sunday.

How have we been coping?  I can't speak for The Man as I've hardly seen him since Thursday last week.   He has been shoveling snow full-time and otherwise worrying about whether the weight of the snow will collapse the roof, rip branches off trees, kill all our shrubbery, etc.

Yarn Bandit has been finding the snuggliest spot in whatever room I happen to occupy.

 

His joints are a little creaky, so we've gotten out the doggy staircase for him.  Kirby has been watching the snow fall and licking his paws like crazy whenever we liberate him from the donut.

I've been making fires and meatballs and socks and tomato soup (I'll never go back to the canned stuff) and shawls and lasanga and baby blankets and grilled fontina sandwiches and World Cup Scarves and carmelized onion and gorgonzola dolce pizzas and lace and so forth.  There has been wine and naps and footie (we lost the footie channel AND ONLY THE FOOTIE CHANNEL for about 12 hours on Saturday, but it came back as mysteriously as it disappeared, so we've been catching all the games we missed on the replays) and I caught up with the laundry and exercised a lot and paid the bills on time, and last night TBS reran the classic "Booze Cruise" episode of "The Office," which The Man had never seen.  We had mail and the paper yesterday, but otherwise not since Friday, but the mailman brought me new yarn yesterday. 

Seriously, this has been the vacation I desperately needed but couldn't afford to take.  It's beautiful and glorious and it makes us all abandon the ratrace for a little while.  Cain't do nuthin about it so's why not sit back and enjoy it?

this post fueled by blissful contentment