The snow plow came down our street today. I was at work.
When I came home, I could not pull into the driveway because of the plow's work.
That's his job. I wasn't upset at all.
It gave me the chance to get outside and get a small workout by shoveling.
It was pretty intense. If you've never dug yourself out of a plow's work, you might not realize just what happens to the snow. It becomes a dense pack of snow.
A plow hill.
Those might work to get through the toughest plow hills.
It's really no surprise to me that the indigenous northerners have more than one hundred words for snow. There really are that many forms of snow.
Well, fortunately it is cold enough that the plow hill didn't start to melt and condense into a plow ice hill. That's when chainsaws, axes, and chisels would come in handy.
I was able to clear it out in twenty minutes.
I worked carefully, resting a couple of times because I was working really hard. It was, after all, still a packed pile of snow put there by a machine.
As I was breaking through the hill, or mini wall, the Berlin wall popped into my head.
Okay, my snow wall was only about a foot and a half high, and was only blocking me from the street for a couple of hours.
But that's how my brain works. Because tomorrow marks fifty days until the Winter Olympics!
We get to break down the walls between countries and join together in unity, cheering on young men and women from all over.
It will help distract me from the plow hills this winter.