The Snow Shovel Is Still Near The Door

I could put the snow shovel away in June and three days later we’d have a freak snow storm. You can bet the farm on it. Mine is still next to the front door, next to my thick winter shoes with the tractor-tread soles. I think I’ll put them away tonight just to see what happens; any snow comes after this, I’ll let you know.

In the past, I’ve lived in places where we had snow in April. Ok, so those places were further north than this, but it’s not as if they were in Canada somewhere. It’s just that we always have one more good snow, “good” depending on the time of year. Right about now, it would be two inches.

Once, I lived at the end of the world, out on the end of civilization in Gloucester, Mass. We had a storm that didn’t affect too many people west of us (everybody was west of us), but gave us 41” of snow. I have some neat pictures of that event, but did not get one of a friend unknowingly walking over a parked car. Later, when things got plowed out a bit, he realized he had gone right over it and a drift.

There was a fine day in January of 19-and-68 when snow was on the ground in each of the Lower 48 at the same time. I would imagine a lot of people in the Deep South suddenly got religion that day as the Fire and Brimstone preachers declared it a sign from God that people should mend their ways.

I just figured it was a sign than the conditions were right for snow.