It really hit me while chipping the 5 inches of ice off the woodpile, that was buried under 8-12 inches of new snow.
We only have two rows of wood left and the forecast says snow for the next two weeks. At least.
Let’s be clear: that takes us to April 12.
We’re running out of places to put the snow. There’s a 10x40x10 pile in front of my garage, the raised deck (roughly 4-5 feet) is level with the ‘ground’/snow, and I’ve given up any hope of ever parking at my house again. So I put on spikes and climb out.
And for the first time, I’m really understanding what people with the S.A.D. feel like. I haven’t seen the ground (just the dirt, I’m not even asking for grass here) since November 30.
I can’t take it anymore.
There are only so many snow sports one woman can take.
I’m losing it.
I look at the tunnel we shoveled out of my door and it feels like a leap of faith, Indiana Jones style.
The Art of the Everyday – March 27: Winter Forever, come find me if you don’t hear from me. I’ll be frozen.