March Comes in Like the Get-Ready Man

Started off today with thunder and lightning, two rounds of hail but, surprisingly, not a lot of wind. The wind is, in fact, suspiciously absent as we've been wallpoed by an early spring snowstorm that dumped about a foot in our back yard.

The dogs, sensing the unstable weather or just being general fusspots, had me up at about 6 am so I could observe said weather phenomena, and ponder whether James Thurber's Get-Ready Man was about to make an appearance.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Get-Ready Man, behold. Or at least read.

But as I gazed out the window upon the lovely morn, I did notice the snow had managed to lop off a rather large limb in the tree in our backyard, viz:

So I knew what I'd be doing this morning. Fortunately, I was gifted a pole saw for my birthday in January, so I was able to make pretty short work of it:

It's not cleaned up by any means, but at least it's in a state where it won't fall any further and spear a weenie dog. I think it did skewer next door's shed a bit, though probably not catastrophically. I'm just glad it didn't flatten anything on the way down.

Zion in the Snow

 A snowy trip to Zion National Park.

We took the trip to flee winter, as it's still snowy as hell at home, but we managed to drag winter with us all the way.

Shouldn't complain. We need the water. But this'll be the first snowy Easter in a long time.

I'm glad I got to see the park like this, though. Not so hot, not so crowded. And we did get some temperatures in the 50s, which for us is tropical this time of year.

Thanks, Phil

Punxsutawney Phil, early this morning, saw his shadow, a portent of six more weeks of winter.

I shot this video the other morning. I'm not sure we can *survive* another six weeks of this. NOTE: Sotto voce cursing as I was recording the video not included.

Winter Has Arrived

It’s winter in Madison County when . . .

• You have to put your truck into four-wheel drive to get out of your driveway.
• You have to use your snow shovel to clean your windshield off.
• You have to climb mounds of snow left in the middle of the street when you’re crossing the street on foot.
• You have to punch through mounds of snow left in the middle of the street when you’re driving.
• BYU-Idaho students still assume they can walk out into the street without looking to see if drivers are stopping.
• You shovel your sidewalks three times a day and still have to shovel them again in the morning.
• Your neighbors swap giving their grandkids rides on the riding lawn mower to giving them rides on the four-wheeler with the blade on the front.
• The cameras at the traffic light at Second East and Highway 33 stop working so you have to run the red light rather than sit there forever.
• Suddenly every tire store in the county wants to “sipe” your tires.
• Wal-Mart is sold out of every bit of snow gear imaginable – and will never, ever, re-stock.
• Kmart sells its three pairs of snow boots and six shovels.
• O’Dells Furniture announces a Spectacular Winter’s Finally Here Blowout Sale, close on the heels of its Spectacular Indian Summer is Going to Last Forever Sale and followed by its Spectacular Get Your Entire Home Re-Furnished for Christmas Sale.
• Booger-freezing cold is forecast within days.
• Everyone starts dressing like Eskimos except for the teenagers, who insist on wearing shorts and t-shirts while saying “I’m not cold.”

Hatches Firmly Battened

Sounds like our first winter storm is going to blow through starting tonight, which means we got our stuff cleaned up just in time.

It's hard to believe snow is coming. It's harder to believe that it's Nov. 7 and 58 degrees outside.

But we do indeed have all of our stuff stowed. We got the camper winterized yesterday, including installation of the new cover over the propane tanks. The cover actually makes the camper look about ten years younger than it is. I'm thinking about getting one for my non-existent abs and pecs.

We also got the porch swing put away. The swing was a severe casualty last year, as the canopy collapsed under the weight of a freak spring snowstorm. Michelle made a new canopy, but I can't guarantee it'll hold up under any amount of snow, so it got stuffed into the shed yesterday.

Oh, that poor shed. I miss the days living at home when we had sheds in which we could put our other sheds in case it got too nippy outside. When I look at real estate advertising, I drool when it mentions shops and such. I'd like one. But it's not to be, at least not until this next year's round of layoffs is over and I'm still employed.

But back to the cheerful subject of winterization. I even raked leaves yesterday, and dumped them in the garden. I'm hopeful the snow will come and stay so the leaves don't get blown all over like they did last year.

Battling the Ice Giants

In a way, it's kind of sad.

Each year about this time, my wife and I both wage a battle against ice. We're ready for winter to go, and with the sun getting stronger and the air getting warmer and the snow on the roof melting and filling the gutters and downspout with the melodious trickle of liquid winter, we get giddy.

We start attacking the ice.

First to go is the ice that cakes in the driveway. Michelle this year chipped away at it with a shovel until just about every square inch of driveway is clear. But then there's the conundrum: All the melting ice and snow causes a lake to form at the end of the driveway. It's inches deep. When the cold invariably comes, it freezes over, making the end of the driveway a slippery slab of ice. So while the water is still liquid, we chisel away at the ice and gunk in the gutters and pound our way toward the French drain in front of the neighbor's house. We reached it today, but there's still a formidable ice dam between the drain and now both our driveways. So tomorrow, weather permitting, I'll be out there chiseling awy at that last bit of ice until the dam is breached and the drain is reached.

But to make that truly effective, I had to clean the gutter in front of the house. That meant a lot of lifting, including prying up 100-pound slabs of ice and tipping them into the yard. I used to throw them in the street, but that got to be untidy, so into the yard they go.

I love this ritualistic time of year. Phooey to those who say we don't have rites of passage in our society. This one certainly counts for me.

Battening Down the Hatches

One of my duties today included taking down our homemade lighted spider Halloween decoration, in order to give the orange lights on the house and in the trees a more festive, harvest feel. For me, the dismantling of the wire-frame spider that hangs on the side of our house is a harbinger of doom. Or at least winter.

Because we are firmly in the caste of suburban goofballs who have tons of excess folderol in their yards in order to tout their middle-class status, there is a lot of battening down of the hatches once winter menaces on the horizon. Today, in addition to the spider, I put the following into winter storage:

• An all-metal miniature tricycle bearing a tin we're supposed to plant flowers in but haven't yet in the two years we've had it. This resides in the flower bed on one side of the stoop.
• A plastic faux-ceramic statue of two kids swinging in a hammock. This resides in the flower be on the other side of the stoop.
• One river rock in which our name has been sandblasted. This resides on the stoop itself. One of these days I'm going to exchange it with the McNabb's sandblasted rock next door.
• One hunk of pink whateverstone, which was taken from the ruins of the burned-down Spori Building on the Ricks College campus. This also resides on the stoop.
• Other various sundry rocks, including a bit of lava I pulled out of the desert. They all lump together on the stoop.

All that stuff is now safely ensconsed in our shed, which is probably going to explode from all the crap we've got stored in there. As for the stoop, it's looking a bit bare, but the stuff there will soon be replaced by a snow shovel and a small bucket of ice melt that the incontinent dog next door will again likely use as a wee-spot.