Welcome To Snow-Maha

I really do enjoy shoveling. Seriously.
Now I know where those Good Samaritans come from. You know, the ones who suddenly emerge in the middle of thunderstorm with an umbrella or who mysteriously appear at the precise moment you have a flat tire to help you change it.

I know. Because today I was one of them.

I was trudging home through snow drifts half as tall as me, uphill (yes, it is uphill most of the way), barely moving. I was running on empty, to be honest. Four hours of snow blowing and shoveling in my "old neighborhood" had taken its toll. My back ached, my fingers were frozen and my boots long since soaked through to the two pair of socks that were supposed to keep my toes warm.

(By the way, I now know the benefit of snow shoes. When you're trying to negotiate your way through snow drifts, it would be better to be walking on top instead of sinking into them.)

Just as I reached the top of the hill, with my apartment now within sight, I saw my opportunity to help. A nice black car was stuck in a drift at the intersection. Its occupants were both armed with shovels, getting ready to dig it out. The fellow was dressed appropriately. But his girlfriend/wife/unwilling travel companion had polka-dot pajama pants on. When they saw me coming to help, their faces lit up – and the girl stopped screaming, "This is the worst Christmas ever!"

A bit of digging and a big push and they were free. I helped direct traffic around them as they swung the (nice) car toward a downhill destination and off they went. I'm sure they had to be asking themselves where I came from. One moment, they were alone and stranded (but with shovels). The next moment, there I was, pitching in to dig them out.

I did make it back to my apartment, too. It was quite a task, staggering my way the final 25 yards or so. The final obstacle was a drift half as high as the front door of my apartment. It was clear no one had been out since I left, nor would they be leaving anytime soon.

Some more Christmas Day Blizzard observations:

Clearing snow is a lot like fighting a war. When you're using a shovel, it's akin to having a gun. You attack little by little, deliberately and patiently, pacing yourself.

But if you have a snowblower at your disposal, it's a lot like having a machine gun. You can mow down a lot of the opposition in short order.

But in a storm like today, when you feel like your machine gun is only doing so much to hold off the flakes that are falling, there can be an even bigger weapon to help you out. Today, the revelation came just after I had spent nearly an hour clearing half of the circle street in my old neighborhood.

That life-saver – much like "air support" from fighter jets in a war – came in the form of a pick-up truck with a plow blade on the front. What had taken me so long to clear was made even cleaner in a matter of seconds. Never before has a snow plow looked so good. I could relate to soldiers in the jungle in Vietnam who were taking heavy fire - until jets roared overhead and decimated the enemy.

(If you really want to know what I mean by the above, watch this scene from the movie, "Saving Private Ryan," where Tom Hanks' character takes on a tank with a pistol.)

More photos from today:

Jon was not happy with all the snow.

Bridget worked her way down,while I took the uphill approach to the snow path.

The sidewalk to my apartment: completely drifted over.