Shoveling snow has got to be one of the most aggravating things about living in New England. It's not the physical act of moving snow from one place to another--it's not difficult and it's good exercise--but the sense of futility. Not only will you have to start over again with the very next storm, but once the season is well underway to have to be thinking about the storms to come three or four months in advance.
It's all about storage. From our little 900 square feet or so of active parking space, we have to toss the snow far enough to either side so that we don't end up with a tall pile that keeps falling back in, leaving the space too narrow for the three cars that have to share it. If that happens we end up having to move big piles of snow, which have by then become wetter and harder, to the edges of the property. It pays to think ahead.
Yesterday's snow was even more aggravating because after a couple of hours cleaning up the yard in the morning, a second wave of storm clouds dropped another four or five inches, and we at least had to go back out to shovel a couple of paths.
But I don't have so much to complain about; the North Country (the part of New Hampshire north of the White Mountains) got as much as two feet of snow from this last storm. I have no ideas where I would put all that snow. I hope I don't find out later in the year.
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