Monday morning, I awoke to find six inches of snow on the ground already. It quickly got worse. A lot worse.
A Facebook friend in my town posted that the last she
had checked, she had received 17 inches of snow. I did not bother to measure what fell around my house, because I did not want to feel any worse than I did already.
This picture I took of my driveway will give you an
idea why. I piled the snow as high as I could. I had no other choice—there was
nowhere else to put it.
With overnight cooling, that “wall” you see here (you
didn’t see how much else I shoveled outside this frame!) is going to be pretty
impregnable for a while. That trumpet Joshua used at Jericho might have been
dramatic, but it won’t do the job on this one.
So tonight, the local weather forecasters were
predicting another coastal storm that they pronounced as “significant.”
Isn’t there a quota for blizzards—like, no more than
one a year?
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