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So, it’s winter.

It’s February.

I am in Canada.

Thus, you may correctly deduce there is snow on the ground. There is, in fact, massive amounts of frozen white chunks of semi-solid but occasionally fluffy bits out there. Not just flakes fallen from the sky, but piles heaved, areas blown over and drifts everywhere, leaving wavy sculptures by the roadside and heavenly swirls on the surface. I do not expect to see my lawn until June, and if you’ve ever been here, that’s not much of an exaggeration.

I mean, I *like* snow, don’t get me wrong. It’s pretty. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without it, and I have to admit: I’m not the one who shovels it. Also, we can build fun stuff with it like forts and snow people that had unfortunate accidents. We can shovel it against the house to help bank it and keep the cold out. (well, not *me* shovel, but you know what, or who I meant)

But seriously, this is crazy.

If at some point we disappear, come dig me out, okay? Bring a large tractor, and possibly an empty dump truck. There’s nowhere else to put this stuff. Seriously, a plow came down this morning to try and skim some off the sides of the road. He didn’t know where to put the extra either.

© Andrea for AtypicaLife dot net, 2008. |

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Original post by Andrea