We had to replace the roof this summer, and we went with a steel roof. We knew this would mean snow wouldn’t stay put on the roof, but, um, we weren’t really prepared for what that would mean in actual practical everyday results.
Last night it was all very exciting as the kids and I watched and waited for the sheets of packed snow to slide down the steel, break free into the air and explode into snow boulders as they hit the ground.
But the view’s a little different today. Here’s the porch:
And here are the five steps to my front door. Or rather, here AREN’T the five steps to my front door:
I suppose if I’m going to complain frequently about the bad weather I should give the good weather equal air time. So I’ll go on record as saying we’ve had several sunny days in a row!!
Today I enjoyed the sunshine on my walk out the driveway to meet the kids off the schoolbus (they’re old enough to do it themselves, but I’m like a referee whose presence wards off the worst of the after-school bickering).
And I saw snow fleas!!!
Those tiny specs that look like dirt or maybe freshly ground black pepper are a tiny sign that winter is on the slow slide out. Don’t pass up a chance to watch these creatures. They’re fascinating. Really they’re not fleas at all. They’re more properly called springtails.
Somehow I’m not surprised. I got stuck in my driveway on Friday for the second time this year. The power went out this morning. And so it goes.
But back to groundhogs.
When I was little I called groundhogs “twitchy.” As in they weren’t groundhogs, they were twitchies. I grew up in the middle of a field, the back section of which was filled with asparagus someone had planted at one time but then grew up “wild” year after year. (Feral asparagus? Now there’s something to ponder.) Needless to say, that field of asparagus was Groundhog Heaven!!!
But anyway, one day a groundhog came right up to the back of the house and looked in the window. I stood there watching its whiskers twitching, and I said “Twitchy!” (According to my parents; my memory’s not that good.) So ever after at our house, all groundhogs were called Twitchy. If I saw one out in the field I’d yell “Twitchy!” and Dad would go get his pellet rifle. He rarely connected (sorry, Dad). Yeah, this was the 70s way out in the boonies. You had to be there.
