In this unusual winter of 2018-2019, it took until
Winter Storm Quiana to finally bring the Boston area enough snow to make it
necessary to fire up our snowblower. That
event also began the annual nature-versus-nurture ritual in our family of
arguing that Neal Cannot Possibly Know Anything About Snow Removal Because He
Was Born in Florida.
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| I grew up in a snow-free environment |
Yes, it is true.
I am a native of Miami. I did not
experience snow until I was 20 years old, and then only because I drove two
hundred miles for the specific purpose of personally witnessing actual flakes of
snow falling out of the sky (it seemed like a good idea at the time).
But that was in 1969.
Since 1971 I have lived exclusively
in snowy locales. I once lived in
Schenectady, NY, where it is rumored the snow never melts. I dwelled in Chicago where it begins snowing
on Halloween and does not stop until late April, if then. And I have spent 30 of the past 38 years in
New England; sixteen of them with a 220-foot-long driveway that most decidedly
would not clear itself without my intervention (Betty's rebuttal is that for seven of those years, I managed to be away on business every time it snowed).
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| For 16 years, we lived in a home with a 220-foot-long driveway |
Surely my adult tenure as a ‘northerner’ counts for
something. But not according to my wife,
who was raised in the Finger Lakes region of New York; the anointed Snow
Capital of America. While I was busy
tending the family mango and avocado plantation in January, February and March,
Betty was working shoulder-to-shoulder with her father to clear six-foot-high drifts
of the white stuff. I freely admit she
had a head start on me; but I’ve had nearly five decades to catch up.
I am not allowed to use the snowblower because I
‘don’t do it right’. What, exactly, is
the ‘right’ way? You point the
snowblower down the driveway and put it in gear. You turn the crank on the gizmo that throws
it left or right. What could be
easier?
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| I invented a snowblower on skis for our gravel driveway, but I still 'do it wrong' |
Well, our driveway is not macadam. It is loose stone (to allow precipitation to
percolate down into the water table rather than into storm drains). Three years ago, I invented – and may yet decide
to patent – a means of mounting the ‘maw’ of our snowblower onto a pair of skis
so the business end of the machine rides an inch above the stone. It is a sight to behold and it works
wonderfully well. But I am not allowed
to be its wrangler because (it is alleged) I picked up too many stones on the lone
pass of the driveway I was allowed to make.
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| Because of all the plants along it, even shoveling the sidewalk requires spousal supervision |
I am instead consigned to the hand-shoveling of the
sidewalk. But even that requires close
spousal supervision. You see, we have no
grass. If we did, we could pile snow on
it from now until Memorial Day. Instead,
we have trees, shrubs of many sizes, and perennials. It’s never OK to put snow on a shrub (duh),
but snow must also be spread out within perennial beds, never allowing snow to
become too deep. Also, to prevent
accidentally covering small shrubs, snow should preferably be transported to
the moss pathways that divide our garden into planting beds.
If I sound like I’m griping, it’s only because I think
I’ve earned another shot at the back end of our Ariens Deluxe 22” machine when
Winter Storm Ryan comes around. I’ll
even keep shoveling the sidewalk. And besides, the family mango plantation has long since been bulldozed to make way for a shopping center.
