A snowy saturday

Ahhh. We have been transformed again. Snow on Friday night is always welcome. It means laying in bed most of Saturday morning. After all, there is nowhere to go, no errands and no work. Even if we had to get somewhere, we could not. There is a 4-foot drift in the street in front of our house! It's always entertaining to see who is going to venture out on the street, other than the local huskey who loves the freedom of no cars. The 4-foot drift is bad enough, but it hides a hidden danger to anyone driving down our street. We have deep ditches, instead of sidewalks, on both sides of the street. When snow is drifted on top of the ditches, an unsuspecting driver can go right into one. It's not too dangerous - how fast can one be driving, after all. Once the city snow plow did this and it took a huge truck to pull it out - an all day operation and quite ironic! Now we figure, if there was a true emergency someone would come to the door, call the police, or at least AAA. It's pretty dumb to drive down a street with 4 foot snow drifts! Maybe we've gotten callous living here.

So each snowy morning there is often the sound of shovels and general mayhem. That's how it was this morning. My husband used to run out to help, but now we've learned. Now we just comment to each other, sleepily, "oh, somebody's stuck" and nestle further into our warm and cozy Saturday bed. Later we will use our electric snow blower and join the block-party brigade. We never rely on the snowplow, but take clearing our street into our own hands. What a sight they make: four or five old geezers pushing a row of snow blowers down the street! Snow shooting high in huge clouds, motors roaring. I don't know, I almost wish we could stay snowed-in, what is that important anyway?

Saturday morning

Hooray. It's Saturday. I love waking up early on a Saturday morning, going through my mental thankfulness list while the sun is blasting through the blinds in strips and birds are chirping that it is Spring! I thought I heard some baby birds chirping very early - they sounded hungry. Then there was the sharp hammering of our friendly woodpecker. But it's really not that friendly to make such a loud racket so early, especially on the week-end. The exterior walls must be turning into swiss cheese, and it makes my hubby furious. He will bolt out of bed and grab our son's beebee gun and go out trudging through the melting snow and start firing. At first I was upset by this, but he's yet to murder a woodpecker yet! First, he's not such a good shot, and second, woody is too smart for that! Then I go back to sleep.

I've devised a good plan for scaring woodpeckers away. We tried getting a big plastic owl and putting him up on the roof but it kept blowing off and one never knew if one might get hit in the head with a plastic owl and that can hurt. Today were going to look for some kind of a long plastic snake, for birds and snakes are mortal enemies, I think? So anyway, we'll throw the snake up to the roof - it's far upthere for we have two stories. Just seeing the snake might strike fear into woodies hammering little heart and my hubby will get his sleep. That's the hope. I'll let you know...