Some shovel, other's blow, occasional plows are driven across it, I push. I am a pusher of snow. I have a driveway long enough to afford a small football championship. When I was a younger version of myself I would shovel the snow. I had a curved handled shovel that was considered ergonomic, a fancy word for save the back. But as I grew older the whole picking wet snow up and tossing it over my shoulder didn't quite hold the allure that it once did. So, I push.
A couple winters ago our young son presented to me the gift of a large bladed snow sleigh shovel. It is designed to push large amounts of snow to a place to be deposited, and actually fun to use. It has given me the ability to complete the snow removal from my lengthy drive way in a wee bit of a whistle. " How long is that?" you ask, "ee Laddy if ye only knew."
I once described the cleaning of my drive as a mystical experience. It has become a perpetual project in artistic creation. The area transforms into different shapes and depths at each snow fall. It becomes cavernous at times. A valley that traps or repels sound. My small piece of snow creation. Till time wears on the the warm weather destroys all once created. Like Shiva walking the poppied field, destroying and recreating as he walks, the onset of spring lays waste my snow valley. Till next season.
Some shovel, I push. I push and I created mythological lands of snow castles and battles with ice dragons. For a short while. Then the Sun lets in.
Peace and Balance,
John
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