The Snow Blowers Club

Strange country we live in! Yesterday we broke records for high temperatures in Dec. Today, it's almost a record snowfall. We were supposed to make the 5+ hr trip to Toronto to visit with our new grandson, Ty, but a look at the weather and the forecast, forced us to cancel the trip. Very disappointing but we'll try again next week. Despite the inconvenience of being 'snowed in', it was so beautiful outside. The snowflakes were huge and each tree branch balanced a 2-4 inch snow-rider along it's back. At some point today, the trees will rain down miniature avalanches with even the most softest of breezes.

The "Snowblower Club" will be out in full force soon. There are four houses in a small circle wherein live four retired men to who have perfected the art of removing snow. At the same moment, they receive an unseen, unheard message from someone, somewhere and generally bundle themselves and launch outdoors within seconds of one another. I still haven't figured out how they do it...our phone doesn't ring and he doesn't call anyone, yet all four machines fire up within minutes and the quiet is broken by the grinding and puffing of their mini-zambonies. At the same unspoken moment, the men put these machines in 'neutral', gather in the middle of the street for a ten-minute discussion, and then pull down toques, yank up gloves, and return to their own niches to finish their respective areas. The first couple of times I witnessed this phenomenon, I thought it was cute. Now, I'm thinking it may be an unofficial street club that monitors the snowfall, trades snowblower techniques, and discusses 'who knows' what else. After the last major snow dump, the men decided it was well past time to collectively complain to the city about the quality of work from the city snow removal company and they burned the phone lines to City Hall. When the large plow made it's way down the street after the next storm, all four men were standing at the end of their driveway, machines fired up and ready to take away the unasked for addition they expected to have pushed into the space they had just cleared. The plow driver obviously knew the white haired gents meant business and stopped his plow, got out of his huge cab, and made the ultimate gesture. "How do you want me to do tackle this boys?", he said. There were smiles all around...all is forgiven...and mugs of hot coffee (with a toddie of rum?) suddenly appear. Our little corner of the street has been a sight to behold ever since.

Today is a day to turn on the fireplace, watch old B&W movies on television, and marvel at the wonders of nature I see...through the window...on my way back and forth from the refridgerator.