Heartless February.

Everything around here shut down Friday. Actually, the forecast was so apocalyptic that the shutdowns were announced on Thursday. Schools, town hall, vet office, library, everything.  

What caused this was no giant blizzard, but just a tiny amount of ice -- less than an inch thick -- that coated all the surfaces of the town. The power company assured us that they were on the job in case the ice brought down any lines, or any trees that then brought down lines. 

I don't think there were any major outages, but there certainly was ice. It didn't stop our faithful trashmen, though, probably because they are contractors and not government employees. 

By the time I collected my can, a heavy sheet of ice had formed on the lid. This is what fell off when I opened it (Izzy's ear on the lower right). 

In spots there didn't seem to be much freezing... until I used the scraper on it. 

It was much safer to walk on the lawn. Or it would have been, except for the ice crusting over the trampled snow, seen here with a billion footprints from myself and the dogs, all frozen solid. 

I wore my cleats, of course. Three years ago I got a concussion, and two years ago I was in the hospital for my back, both related to falls. Last year we lost Nipper, world's happiest dog, to cancer. While only two of these three events were related to bad weather, all of them happened in February. So I'm saying a novena for protection every day this month, as well as one to avoid fear. I don't want to be so scared that I freeze up and then fall over like a sack of frozen turkeys.

Wherever you live out there, be careful. February has no mercy. Its only heart is the chocolate one you get on the 14th.