The Shovel

Where’s the shovel?

That’s what I heard late last night and early this morning. A good question, we have several, a dozen at last count. Big ones, small ones, scooping ones and even a broken one.

After being teased the last couple weeks with slightly warmer weather, we received a heavy dusting last night. In fact, it’s still snowing. Nothing heavy, nothing that will last, but enough to pull out a shovel or two.

Last weekend, the sun shining, wearing a light jacket, I finally took down the Christmas lights and put them in the attic above the garage. I don’t go up there very often, it’s a seasonal thing. So when the attic door is open, the ladder in place, I like to make the chore as efficient as possible.

Hoping I wasn’t jinxing the tenuous arrival of Spring, I put all the snow shovels away – every last one of them, even the broken one. Something I do every year, a tradition of sorts. I even pulled out the front porch furniture and the little cafe table for the back porch all in a vain attempt to hurry the transition into Spring and warmer weather, snubbing Old Man Winter.

And every year, my wife knowingly says it’s too early and every year I reply; “I have a good feeling about this…” Of course, men don’t have feelings and are usually wrong.

I told my wife before going to bed; “Don’t worry, it will all be gone by the morning.” Not only is it still here, it’s still falling. Like previous years though, I’ll refuse to get those shovels out – the attic door is closed, shut tight, until Halloween at least, when the home made coffin comes out. You can’t mess with tradition.

On a positive note, rabbit tracks are visible all over the back yard thanks to the freshly fallen snow. Simply follow the trail to find the Easter treats. I’m hoping he brought me a shovel.

Happy Easter Everyone!