Winter in the Great White North arrives, uninvited. Snow never apologizes. Sure it softens edges, quiets the sound, but, it demands attention. Snow removal is a chore that eventually becomes a quiet practice when approached with intention.
There’s a rhythm to it: grab a bite of snow, throw it aside, breathe out a cloud of CO2. Rinse and repeat. You feel calm and focused—without struggle, lost in the here and now. Rush it and you strain your back; resist it and the snow gets deeper. Accept it, and the chore becomes Zen. You clear the path, but also your mind. Snow removal teaches wisdom: do what’s in front of you, steadily, without complaint.
Winter will keep coming, but so will the chance to meet it calmly. By the time the driveway is clear, something else is too—a small, hard-earned sense of peace, earned shovel by shovel.
Well, that’s me dreaming about snow removal.
Reality is slightly different. First of all, a shovel is only good to clear a narrow path from the basement door to the front and the porch steps. Clearing a 200 foot driveway and large parking area takes a different king of shovel, one with horsepower.