<--Yesteday morning and yesterday afternoon-->
I am grieved to report that the precipitation, which had stopped about 11 this morning, has commenced again (it's almost 2:00) in the form of rain. Of the three times I shoveled, morning and afternoon yesterday and morning today, after I cleared the main accumulation from sidewalk and walk I would finish with a last scrape. I would start at the porch, clear the walk, clear the sidewalk, and then do Babushka, and by the time I finished that, there'd be another quarter or half an inch on the pavement. No more. The sidewalk is wet, not crusty; the trees are dripping.
This morning when I shoveled, my two neighbors brought their three dogs for their walks. The basset hound was even sadder (his ears!) and even the golden retriever, still wriggling with joy, obviously struggled across the drifts to greet me. What a New England cheap-ass way out of a snowstorm, to melt under rain instead of sun.
<--Last night and this morning-->
This morning I tried to unburden the trees again. Covered head to toe in Gore-Tex, I stood under the trees and lifted their branches with a long broom. One plum tree that to comply with city ordinance I should trim covers the sidewalk even without snow to make a cave out of it. It leans over more under the snow weighing its branches, and then its tips get buried again in the snow on the ground. Carefully, I freed it from its contortions. Though the two shield the sidewalk from accumulation somewhat, my de-snowing them of course dumps it down again. So I shoveled and shoveled and shoveled, a 48' long x 5' wide x 2.5' deep sidewalk plus a 20' x 5' x 2.5' walk plus however much volume I removed from Babushka. Anyone who says that isn't exercise can kiss my pearly white ass.
Before snowshoeing yesterday afternoon, we banged off the trees in the front, ignoring the cherry tree in back. As we looked out the bedroom window last night, I saw that a branch had cracked under the strain. Damn. These trees are 30 years old and toward the ends of their lives; they need better care than for me to forget to clear off the branches.
I think RDC took this without a flash; I was surprised to see it among the photographs this morning. With all the white on the ground and falling and the moon nearly full behind the clouds, the night was lit with a wonderful blue-white light instead of the unlovely orange of sodium. He took another photograph of me this morning shoveling again--he doesn't have a snowday as long as the snow spares the phone and electricity cables--but all that shows is the impracticality of my hair cut, with a couple of bangs falling into my face, too short for the ponytail. Which isn't a pony but a pug's tail.