Who says I don't know how to ask for help?

Here's a closeup, in case your screen resolution won't let you read what's on the shovel:

Actually, though the lettering is my handiwork, this was my true love's idea.  Usually, I am the snoveler* of the household.  I enjoy it thoroughly and am shockingly good at it, far better than arguably abler people our previous landlord used to hire for the job.  Perhaps it is because I'm not sloppy.  Perhaps it is because I am conscious of terrain, of the difference between brick path vs. lawn and garden not desirable to be scraped and uprooted willy-nilly, and of course of what happens when you don't get all the snow and what you left melts and refreezes and I have to walk over it. 

Sadly, every time it's snowed this year I've been too unwell to go out and get to it, so this year my love has had to snovel -- twice!  Actually, you could say he's been forced to snovel three times because this last storm fell so wild and fast, so very fecund of heavy, wet snow and ice -- no tame fluffy fantasy flakes dancing on mild breaths of wind, no -- that twelve hours after the first snoveling he was forced to repeat everything he'd already done to a depth of an additional two inches, plus he then had to dismantle the roadside architecture created by snowplows so that the mail lady could get to the box.

My true love is done with snoveling.  He would never think of denying others the pleasure, though, and invites everyone who passes over our walk and through our gate to pitch in at will, to share in the aerobic exercise, to earn for him/herself the ruddy glow of a serious exerter of plastic scooping force. 

He will watch from the upstairs window.

__________

*This is not a typo; this is a neologism.  I invented the verb "snovel" meaning "to shovel snow," because I am too lazy to say "shovel snow" when I can say "snovel."  I have submitted this word to Pseudodictionary.com, where it has been duly validated as real, live, modern slang via official listing.  Go forth and use it with confidence.

Comments

[pilgrimgirl]

I love this idea, although I won't get to use it anytime soon because I don't live anywhere near snow these days! But I have been shoveling through some weeds and gopher holes in my garden. Maybe I could try the same idea there?? :)

PS: When I did live in snow, I loved the snovelling part unless it was really windy and icy. I also like to mow the lawn. I'm just weird that way.

[Sara]

There is a zen-like pleasure to be had in performing these tasks, isn't there? Icing a cake is another one like that. I'm also very fond of mulching.

[sognatrice]

Ooh, I love the word! When I used to live in a place that received a decent amount of snow, I hated snoveling, especially when my nose began to run, leading to...sniveling? Nah. Just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Love the Visitor's Shovel invite :)

[Sara]

Oh, you are so right, Sognatrice; snoveling does lead to sniveling. I still enjoy it, though. The trick is to do it several times throughout the snowstorm. That way you never have to do as my true love did, move huge expanses six wet inches deep and then eight wet, icy inches deep. If you just go outside every hour during a normal winter storm, it often turns out to be no more taxing than sweeping. When I'm not sick, that's what I do.

Of course, this storm started during the work day and then did most of its worst dumping overnight, making such strategies difficult if not impossible for my true love to employ. And of course, this useful tip is entirely useless to you, living the life there in Calabria. Go ahead and gloat about that a little if you like. ;)

[sognatrice]

Oh I wouldn't do such a thing! I love the snow, and miss it terribly in fact...but not the snoveling part. Here if I'm dying to see it, we can just drive up into the mountains (about 20 minutes) and enjoy it for a little while--not really deep snow, usually, but enough to be pretty :)

[Sara]

Okay, but just for the record, gloating is allowed, nay, totally supported here at Moving Right Along. Complaining, too, of course, though not mindless, unconstructive whining [unless I'm doing it]. I'd just much rather hear people gloat. ;)

Twenty minutes to snow -- nice. We used to do similar things when I was growing up in Southern California. It's a cliché of the area, but during certain months of the year you really could go to the beach in the morning and play in snow that afternoon just by driving a little bit, and sometimes we did.

Maybe someday you'll have a retreat cottage in the mountains and need to snovel again.