You’d better watch out!

We had a very dry and pleasant and even warm autumn to this point, so now we're getting it in the shorts. First there were wildfires, which I have never seen in the lower tier of New York State. They followed on the heels of drought warnings as day follows the night. Containing those bastard fires was extremely tough for our local firemen, and a big salute goes out to them. 

When it rained all day yesterday, it was a big relief. People always say "We needed the rain," but we really needed it this year. It usually rains here a lot, especially in November, which is normally a big gray wet smear of a month. And this is why we almost never have to deal with wildfires. 

Prior to the rain, a lot of the locals started to get their Christmas decorations out. I just can't do it before Thanksgiving, but I didn't fault them for taking advantage of the clement weather. I too have hung ribbons and lights in cold so miserable I could barely feel the fingers that were doing the work. But I just couldn't focus on doing the job this soon.  

Note that for some folks, the beginning of
Yuletide does not mean the end of 
Gloattide. 

I know when I drag the decorations out of the cellar, I will get that powerful feeling that I had just put them away. It happens annually, and the feeling is stronger each year, because of the ol' toilet paper situation, that life -- like a roll of TP -- goes faster the further along you are. 

And alas! I probably should have put my porch lights up already as well, because as I write this at 3:30 in the morning on Friday, it is snowing like (to use the technical, meteorological term) bejeezus out there. The dog sensed that this would be a bad time to have to go out to pee in the yard, so he woke up at three and started whining. And here we are. 

Compounding this, it's garbage day! Which means I don't know if I should take the can up to the street or not, as the trashmen will have to avoid the plows. The plow might even nail my Rubbermaid, which sounds vaguely pornographic. So now I don't even know what I'm doing. 

Jupiter pluvius, I guess, but sometimes his schedule is very inconvenient for me. 

Crypto hunker!

We're expecting our first "plowable" snowstorm here this upcoming weekend, which has the weather whackos on the news acting like it's a free Rolling Stones / Taylor Swift concert in Central Park. "It's been 298 days since our last measurable snow event!" Yeah, you know why? It’s not that thing that rhymes with Lowball Dorming. It’s because that was when March happened. We don't usually get big snowfalls in April or May.

Now it's early January. We didn't get any snow in December. Which is completely normal for New York's lower Hudson Valley. And it's exceptionally normal for New York City not to get snow in December. I grew up there and never saw a White Christmas. Lots of rain. (No one dreams of a Clear Christmas.) 

People should not be getting their dresses up over their heads over the weather. 

They need instead to be hysterical about something important: Money! 

Yes, friends, it's time again to remind you that Fredcoin is the world's most awesome cryptocurrency, the kind that has seen no arrests or indictments, the kind that has an amazing track record of retaining its value. Worried about the winter? Afraid that a blizzard will cave in your roof, avalanche your car, rip off your porch, insult your mom? Wherever will you find the money to deal with all that? (Especially Mom, who will be so upset she'll want to buy shoes.) Well, it's Fredcoin to the rescue! 

Ask yourself: Self! Doesn't money get you through rough times better than rough times get you through money? And of course the answer is: Yes! So you need a safe way to invest your currency. Don't just leave it hanging around. The US government makes your dollar worth less every day. But it can't affect the United State of Fred! Fredcoin will hold your cash against the determined amount of Fredcoin, which will be there when YOU need it, when YOU want it! Not when the punks in Washington say you can have it! 

So thumb your nose at Old Man Winter. Thumb, I say, thumb! And send a bundle of your annoying money to me. You will immediately receive an e-certificate stating your investment in Fredcoin. Then watch the magic happen! Laugh at blizzards! Chuckle at storms! Give yourself a hernia over squalls! Tell sleet to kiss your fartin’ behind! With Fredcoin in your corner, you can't go wrong! 

Fredcoin! The Crypto for All Seasons!  

Snowman pickup lines.

☃ "Wanna rub our sticks together, baby?"

☃ "Frosty? He's my dad. Very connected."

☃ "I'd stop the world and melt with you."

☃ "I got two eyes made outta coal and they are burning for you."

☃ "So, er, you like snow cones?"

☃ "Come on over to my Frigidaire."

☃ "Wanna make snow angels on my face?"

☃ "Yeah, you've probably seen these guns on Tinder."

☃ "There may be snow all over, but there's fire in the furnace."

☃ "You ain't seen snowballs until you've seen my snowballs."

One man's trash...

 

No man winter.

I don't want to jinx us, but except for a couple of nasty cold snaps, this has been the easiest winter I remember, and I remember a few. The worst weather we have had so far in New York actually started on the first day of winter. It was no joke -- Buffalo got it horribly, and with a body count. But since then it's been very light. When we have had precipitation, it's been warm, so it's been rain. And, Mr. Snow Miser, for the record I am just fine with that. Why, it's like living in the south!

Usually when the winter is warm in this neck of the woods you hear a lot of wailing about global warming, but not this year. No one wants steady, freezing cold, with back-breaking car-wrecking ice and snow measured by the yard. Maybe the big-time climate chaos enthusiasts are thinking, Well, Miami, sucks to be you, but I'm digging this. And I think they can probably relax about Miami too. (Remember the #1 rule of Climatology: If it fits the Narrative™, it's climate; if it contradicts the Narrative™, it's weather.)

Having said all this, I do seem to recall Januarys and Februarys that were deceptively mild, followed by Marches that were -- to put it mildly -- bastards. The worst is when we make it to March 21, or whatever day the vernal equinox falls on that year, and think we're home free, and BLAM! Blizzard. 

So you can bet I'll be keeping a weather eye on things here, and if we do get smacked late in the season, you can bet I'll be linking back to this page. Heat Miser is at his weakest early in the spring, and Snow Miser thinks it's funny to drop a bomb on us just when we think we're safe. Keep watching the skies!

SNOW!!!!

So we finally got a for-real snow event yesterday. 

OR DID WE?

Six to eight inches of snow were expected. The district decided to close the schools as of Tuesday night. At ten in the morning Wednesday, not a flake had fallen. At eleven, birds were chirping. At one p.m. my Windows system software said "Snowing now," but my actual windows told a different story. It was starting to look like a non-event. Not that our local bloated school administration cared. They hadn't had a snow day off yet this winter, and by God they were going to get one. 

We northerners like to make fun of how southerners panic when a little bitty snow squall shows up, but aren't we a lot wimpier than we used to be? I know it's our inner Yorkshiremen that make us look back and say how we trekked through five feet of snow during a storm that made the Children's Blizzard of 1888 look like a gentle dusting -- but when I was a kid I'm pretty sure the schools didn't close before the snow even started. 

There may be reasons for this. More children live in single-parent households now, and in houses where both parents work, and if there's no adult home to fetch the kid because the weather got bad fast, what can the school do? Better to leave them home in the first place. 

Also, at least in theory, weather forecasting is better now than it was when we were tots, what with the News 10 Dopplercast 5000 or whatever your local station advertises. So sure, it may be sunny and warm now, but you wait -- Dopplercast 5000 says blizzard by lunchtime, and blizzard it shall be. 

Well, at last, at 2:30: 

An hour or so later it had turned to rain. Some of the neighbors' kids got some sledding in:

And this morning:

It rained all night and the temperature got up over forty. In other words, not only was there barely any snow in this snow event, but the weather wiped out the snow we already had.

I can live with it. My back didn't have to brave the shovel, I didn't have to pay Piers Plowman who does the driveway, and the children got their vacation day. But I can't remember the last time a forecast was this far off. 

There's a local guy who does weather forecasting on Facebook, and I don't know what his story is, but he's good. He uses data from weather services all over the hemisphere, and knows how to do the math. Even he got rooked on this one. At three in the afternoon he wrote: 

This one I did not see coming. We are experiencing warm air advection which is warm air approaching and over riding the cold dense air in place. Typically this produces moisture in the midlevel atmosphere and would produce precipitation with upward forcing motion. In our case snowfall.

However, at this point it has plateaued and has created a dry slot bubble in the midlevel of the atmosphere as wintry precipitation is in the process of transforming to rainfall. I am not sure how long before the dry slot bubble fills back in with precipitation.

The end result is we may experience this dry slot in the weather for a couple of hours. Precipitation likely returns as a mix or rainfall.... Weather can be fickle.

You can say that again, brother!

Memey Christmas!

Once again it's Meme Saturday here at the ol' blogeroo! Try not to laugh too hard; you might pull something. You may say that Fred's sounding a little cynical here today -- nah, I'm just freaking exhausted. Hard to tell the difference when you're me! 

Snow day.

It wasn't much of a snow day. I was running around like a maniac, partly hoping to accomplish things before the First Snowfall of the Winter hit, which didn't hit in winter but in the last ten days of autumn, but let's not be picky. 

The problem with snow is that it can cause trouble in several different ways. It can be thick and hard to move through; it can be light and extremely slippery. We were expecting 2-5 inches of snow, "with possible lollipops of deeper stuff."

Lollipops?

So, I learned something -- "lollipops" to weather buffs are small areas of snow a good deal deeper than the surrounding total. It's not a new term but it was new to me. If you know more about it, please educate me. It doesn't seem to refer to drifts, just weird spots of deep snow. Well, I've been in a lot of weird spots, so I can handle that.

As it turned out, the worst of the snow avoided us and worked its way to Connecticut. They have more money; they can pay the plows. I doubt we got more than two inches of snow here -- puffy stuff but still slippery. The schools are only closed for two hours this morning. Sorry, kids!

Baby Maple's first snow ever

Upshot: I had another busy day and that's all I got. I hope you got something out of today's post, even if it's just that sometimes a lollipop can be deep. 

Meme Thursday?

Sure, why not? Work's pretty busy, but there's always time for memes! Just ask anyone! 

And yet here I am, killin' it

Not one of mine but I love it. Wife says "He looks so happy!"

Coldest robot.

Eleven years ago we had a snowstorm here two days before Halloween, which was also on a Monday that year. Snow on Halloween may be de rigueur in places like North Dakota and Saskatchewan, but not in the southern tier of New York. It was not a blizzard, as I recall, just heavy, slippery snow, and it caught everyone by surprise. Weekend workers, plow guys, schools that had to remain closed Monday, even trees that had not yet dropped their leaves (you didn't want all those limbs, didja, tree?). All the local towns and villages barred trick-or-treating, although I seem to recall roving bands trying their luck the following Friday. Those that did made out well. The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

A friend had posted pictures of the Great Pumpkin Snowstorm of '11, and it reminded me of another Halloween quite a few years earlier than that. 

I don't remember all the costumes I wore over the years of trick-or-treating; there was the Superman costume I wore to pieces after the fact, the inevitable bindlestiff getup, and probably a vampire or pirate in there. Most are forgotten. But I firmly remember the year I got the much-envied robot costume by Ben Cooper. In addition to being pretty skull-like for some reason, it had a battery pack that lit up a little lightbulb in the forehead. All the high tech of the worst third-grade science project, but I could not wait to go out and impress everyone with my costume.

There was a problem. And this problem is something else that I'm sure is familiar to children of North Dakota and Saskatchewan. That day was the coldest Halloween I'd ever endured -- possibly the coldest I have ever endured -- and there was no way Mom was letting me go schnorring for candy without my parka. 

A robot in a parka? THAT'S CRAZY TALK! Robots are made of steel! They don't wear parkas! I think we can all agree on one thing, and that's that a robot, even one that for some reason was packaged by Ben Cooper as if wearing a spacesuit, can endure common temperatures on Earth. No parkas needed! ROBOTS DO NOT WEAR PARKAS!

Well, you'd better believe this one did. It was that or stay home.

I guess it was not as embarrassing as I probably expected. I'm sure that around the neighborhood we had Supermen wearing parkas, ghosts wearing parkas, skeletons wearing parkas, ballerinas whose long coats covered their entire costume, vampires whose mothers made them wear scarves and woolly hats. It was freaking cold. Any sane person would not have been wandering around, but we were kids looking for free candy without adult supervision, so, yeah. 

That was close to my final real trick-or-treat experience. Those Ben Cooper costumes would last for one night, and little more; even if I had not outgrown it by the following year, or associated it with bitter disappointment, I would not have worn it again. It makes an amusing story now, though.

I laugh at the experience, as I do all those Halloween experiences. You usually forget the candy itself as the years go on, but you remember the things that happened. I hope you have some good memories of Halloween to smile at today. And may your trees be free of snow and TP.

An ice guy.

It's truly said that there are two kinds of guys who go from a nice warm bed to the frigid winter cold in under five minutes -- guys whose house is on fire and guys who own dogs. 

I'd much rather be the latter than the former, but some days it feels like a close thing.

This was particularly true on Wednesday night, when we had what was among the last and prettiest snowfalls of this winter. 

It snowed lightly, then heavily; it didn't coat the lawn, but then it did; it didn't stick on the driveway and roads, then it stuck to everything. On the whole it didn't amount to much, not even enough to warrant the use of a snowblower or call in the plow. 

Then large dog Fazzy had to go out multiple times in the night. I know not why. He didn't eat something unusual, at least not from us. He eats mud. He thinks it's full of minerals or something, I don't know. Maybe he's been reading Goop. I think he's too smart for that, though. The point is, between bedtime and the wee hours, the damp snow froze from the bottom up, leaving a slippery mess on top and a slick disaster on the bottom. 

I'm sorry to say I lost my temper with the dog, because it was A) the middle of the night and B) no time to be fooling around, which he was, in addition to doing what he had to do, when he got around to it. Apologies to everyone on the block for the crazy person threatening to murder a dog at that late hour. I slipped several times, but did not fall, thank heaven. But it put the fear into me, and I got mad. Mean mad. 

Thursday the temperature rose to 48, and the sidewalk that almost was a slidewalk became clear and dry by noon. 

It was beautiful morning, so people said; my wife and one other person mentioned that it looked like a Christmas card out there. And so it did. But we know what that was all about. 

In March, Winter puts on her most lovely outfit, makes up her hair and face, and slinks to the door, saying, "You're going to miss me when I'm gone, sugar."

And I say, "You almost caused me five concussions, two broken bones, and a permanent limp. Beat it, sister -- you've overstayed your welcome."

P.S.: Two to four expected Saturday. Winter is vindictive.

A flake's tale.

Once upon a time there was a tiny drop of water that wanted to become a snowflake. 

"Oh, what a joy to be a snowflake!" it said. "I will drift gently from the sky and join with my brethren to become a snowstorm. And we will become one with the happiness of winter. Perhaps I will become part of a jolly snowman, or a sturdy snow fort, or even a dashing snowball! I can't wait!"

The winter came; the air grew cold, and the bit of water went up into a cloud and froze into a snowflake, as it had hoped. 

"Looking good!" it said, admiring its sharp, hexagonal pattern and gleaming white appearance. "Now to make for land!"

"Hold on," said the cloud, "don't be in such a rush. There are people down there who are trying to get to work, old folks with no one to shovel for them, kids on the way to school, ambulances and delivery men and all kinds of people who will be in grave trouble from a sudden storm. You should all disperse gently, in teams, over a period of time."

"Nuts to that!" said the snowflake. "C'mon, guys! Let's PAR-TAY!"

So the little snowflake led an enormous charge of snowflakes that swamped the town, causing a picturesque layer of slippery stuff that caused people to fall, breaking various coccyxes, and crash their cars and trucks, and have heart attacks shoveling, and see their gazebos collapse. 

Did the snowflake get to earth? Yes, but it got stuck on a roof, where it could not be made part of anything cool. It just had to hang around on the shingles until it melted. 

"Aw, this blows," the snowflake said bitterly. "Any chance of leaking into the house?"

"Bob said they're doing it on the north side, but not over here," said another flake. 

"Crap. Well, here comes the sun. I'm gonna skedaddle."

"What will you do?"

"I'm going to melt off that gutter and become an icicle. Maybe I can fall off and hit something."

So the flake did that, and froze into a mean, hard icicle. But the icicle did not fall off all at once. Instead, the sun melted it bit by bit, and the snowflake (now water again) plunged into a drift of snow and froze into ice once more. It got piled on by many of its brethren, and this was the best they could do. It was no fun at all, and the drop of water regretted being such a jackass when it was still up in the cloud. 

Moral: Keep being a selfish jerk and you'll turn into a complete ice hole. 

Wacky water writer.

Since we got baby dog Izzy, now eight months old and almost fully grown, I've noticed an odd behavior that late junior dog Nipper did not exhibit so much -- overwriting. That is to say, distastefully, that Izzy is determined to pee where Tralfaz has peed. This has become much more obvious in the snowy season, when I can see for myself where previous efforts have been laid out. 

Why does Izzy do this? I asked my wife, who reads endlessly on dog behavior. I was concerned that Izzy was trying to exercise a kind of dominance over Fazzy. The two seem to get along very well, better than Tralfaz did with Nipper, so it seemed strange. 

The Daily Puppy does consider it a possible dominance issue, that "If a dog feels tougher and more 'alpha' than another individual he perceives to be meek and timid, he might communicate that by concealing the other furry guy's pee with his own." But Nipper doesn't exhibit other characteristics one might expect with dominance. You probably can think of some behaviors without me mentioning them. It is true that Tralfaz has been neutered and Izzy not yet, and dogs pick up on this stuff, but again, that doesn't seem to have resulted in any other dominance behaviors. 

The article notes that what I may have been taking as overmarking to actually be adjacent marking: "If he does so nearby but not right over the pee, then he's adjacent marking." The article does not, however, explain the difference. An article in The Bark notes that "Both sexes, whether intact or not, appear to countermark in a competitive manner. Additionally, this study suggests that overmarking and adjacent marking may have different functions." It also sheds no light on what those functions might be.

My wife is of the opinion that Izzy is not trying to be obnoxious, but just trying to make his mark, as it were. He's not demanding top billing, but he wants to be on the bill. Tralfaz has had eight years to make the lawn his own, as it were, and Nipper worked the room for more than four before his untimely passing. Izzy just wants to get his scent up there in lights where the fresh pee is drawing attention. "I'm here, too, world!" he is saying. 

I think that's a good guess, and fits with their otherwise chummy relationship. Izzy studies Tralfaz, especially when outside, and seems to want to learn how to do all the dog stuff from him. Nipper would pretty much go his own way.

Whatever the cause, between the footsteps all over and the yellow spots, I have the least lovely winter snowscape on the block. Frank Zappa would be proud. 

Final thoughts.

As I noted a few days ago, January 9 this year is the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, and thus the official end of the Christmas season. 

Pretty much everyone has seen it go already. I bid farewell to all the decorations. My outdoor stuff was packed away on Thursday because we expected our first real snow of the season that night and I'd rather put it away while it is not covered in flakes. 

I'm saddest to see the old-fashioned things go, especially ones like this terrific display I spotted in Pennsylvania. It has woodwork, hand-painting, lights, and a real hat on Santa. I suspect it has been a beloved part of the family for many years. I hope it will be for many more years to come.   

Speaking of that first snowfall, it was Izzy's first ever, and he encountered it at four in the morning on Friday when he and Tralfaz conspired to make me take out the doggies at that early hour. Izzy went into a total Golden Retriever frenzy, rolling and thrashing on his back (the Loony Dance) with his paws in the air much as if he did not care, and otherwise going batpoop crazy with glee. So now I have two nuts who love the winter weather dragging me out for spurious reasons all day long.

Speaking of batpoop, look what Santa gave me in my stocking this year!

Yes, Pez makes a line of emoji dispensers, including the Poop Emoji, and this was provided for me by my loving wife in the guise of Jolly Old St. Nick. I thought it was pretty funny, but I had to act revolted, because really, who wouldn't? Since then I have made it a point to prop up M. Merde du Pez to look at her while she's having lunch, or to keep watch over the tank when someone enters the can. Keep your Elf on the Shelf; I've got a snoopin' poop.

And that's all I have to report for this Christmas. Join me in September when I start complaining about the Christmas stuff on the store shelves too soon. 

In the meadow we can build...

 

Come on Spring, you idiot!

Short post today; busy weekend, busy Easter. But I'm sure you'll find something of fascination below. (Note: Fascination not guaranteed.)

One of the weekend tasks was to try to shame the season of spring into action. Not that there was a lot of reason to complain; the mornings were gorgeous. The week ahead looks good, although I did wear the winter coat out with the dog this morning. 

My weekend plan was to get a jump on the spring projects and move things along. After all, Mets fans missed out on opening weekend thanks to the Chinese Death Virus, so I had to do something.

What I did was, put down some of that mulch I bought. I put it around the trees. I also wanted to hammer in some fertilizer spikes for trees and shrubs, but found that the ground was still frozen about three inches down. Those spikes are just compressed fertilizer; they do not penetrate hard surfaces well. So I abandoned that task, although the mulch is nice.

Closer to the front, the lovely and talented Mrs. K wanted to replace some mums, which take all summer to pop up and last a brief time, with shrubs. I got some little firs, but I did not put them in yet. There's an issue with symmetry that needs to be resolved. See, it's not obvious, but one end of the porch is a little longer than the other, and she would like that to not be obvious. While we puzzle this out, the firs remain in pots on the porch.

Also in pot news: I planted my bell pepper seeds in pots. Too early for this zone, but I don't care. I was late with my cherry tomatoes last year and we missed out on some late harvest. Get moving, spring!

I oughtn't to tempt fate, though. Here's a scene from last May 9:

Another 2020 joy

Latest snowfall I've ever seen here. Killed all the daffodil and rhododendron blooms. Went away fast, but the damage was done. 

What will 2021 bring? I don't know, but I'm giving it the gimlet eye. Prove me wrong, spring!

Snowzimandius.

I met a traveller from a muddy place,

Who said—"One small and footless step of thin ice 

Rests in the yard. . . . Near it lies the face,

Of mud reversed from snow a visage lies, whose grimace,

And icy lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which lasted, stamped once on a snowman's noggin,

The hand that crafted, on the snowman's head;

Within the mire, these words appear:

My name is Snowzymandias, King of Toboggan!;

Look on my Works, ye Frozen, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that minuscule print, alone and bare

The lone and yellow grass stretch far away."

A grand outing.

I was making a right turn on red, onto a busy one-lane road, when my car shuddered and died. The only thing on was the Check Engine light. I thought, Well, that's non-ideal. 

My first concern was that I was dead on the road with traffic coming my way. So, putting aside concerns of trouble and expenditure, I hurriedly restarted the car (ten years old this spring) and, after much disagreement between it and me, it did choke and rumble back to life. On we went, me hoping for momentum. There are no traffic lights between me and my mechanic from that point, which was good, because I thought that if I had to come to a stop I might not be able to come to a start again. But that was irrelevant, because I had to go home first, because I'd just come from the supermarket and there were a hatchload of perishables behind me. 

Look back on it, I suppose the wise move would have been to go to the mechanic, call my wife and ask her to meet me there, transfer the groceries to her car, and then I wouldn't have to worry about them. But I went home instead, hoping I could start the car again after it was unloaded and not have to call AAA for a tow. Did I mention that it was snowing? 

I did not. It was snowing.

After I unloaded at home, I called the mechanic, who was able to take the car immediately. Prayers answered, car started, I was able to drive to the garage. 

That check engine light unnerves me. It is so freaking broad. Oil light means oil is an issue; battery light is equally obvious. But the check engine light could mean anything from a loose gas cap to the engine being half out of the chassis and scraping along the pavement. I immediately dedicated $1,000 from my mental bank account as I drove to the garage.

Everything starts at a grand, at least around here. Water heater? Furnace? Dental work? A/C? Roof? Slice a grand off your savings for starters and then we'll get into the real money. 

Or so I was figuring. 

As it turned out, it was a very small issue -- my heart sank when I heard the word "crankshaft," but it was actually the crankshaft sensor. The great news was that was about a $50 part. The less great news was, the hours of labor to get to and replace the thing added up to $400+.

So, I guess the good news is, it was less than half the grand I had already deducted in my mind, so I was $500 ahead of the game. The bad news is I was still down almost $500. Somehow I still didn't feel like a winner. 

I guess the real good news is that no one happened along in the snowstorm at high speed and rear-ended my car while I was stalled. That would have been unpleasant. Even if I didn't get hurt, my groceries might have been squashed. And who wants squashed groceries?

Dogs in the snow.

Three cartoons:

Why, yes, they are based on personal experience. How did you guess?

When push comes to shovel.

As I write this Monday evening, it has been snowing for almost 24 hours. It may continue for another 24 hours. I just shoveled the walkway for the second time. The snow was more than two feet deep.

Been a while since we had a real roof crusher in these parts. Haven't missed it, either. But, bad back and all, I braved the weather to do my bit to keep things clear. In fact, I even wrote a song about it. A ballad. The Ballad of Me.

❆❅💪👨❆❄

Oh, Frederick Key was a mighty man
And a mighty man was he
He strode outside to fight the storm
With great integrity

Frederick took his mighty blade
A shovel scoop of yellow
And went to work upon that snow
Like a mighty, manly fellow

He shoveled here and shoveled there
Flinging snowflakes like a nitwit
He made it to his parking pad
Thirty-five steps on his FitBit 

Then Frederick took his mighty phone
And with his great know-how
He called a man most manfully
To come and bring his plow

Then Frederick took himself inside
Having made his mighty call
And took with mighty manliness 
Some mighty Tylenol

☃🌨⛇

I think schoolkids will be singing this one some day, don't you? 

NOW it's four a.m. on Tuesday and I just shoveled the walk for the... fifth time? I've lost count. The bulk of the storm is over but it looks like we'll have some flakes around here for the remainder of the day, self included. The dogs, who woke me up at three, are sleeping peacefully in the hall. I'm going to put my head on the table and blarg. Blarg.