Apparently there is snow in the forecast. A lot of snow. I just finished shoveling the driveway for the first time this year, a slushy wet mess that seemed to be something other than snow. Who knows whether we will get the foot of snow they are predicting.
I am probably one of the few people that enjoys shoveling snow. I don't enjoy it, in that I would love to do it every day, but since I took over the job willingly (as Nathan is at work generally when the snow starts and it seems to me that it's awfully unfair to have to drive home in a mess and then spend another half hour plus scooping the sidewalk), I find that I don't mind it. (Unless there is a ton of snow at the end of the driveway and I get splashed while hardly able to move the icy gunk.) The sound of the shovel scraping the driveway, sidewalks, and walkways remind me of being home, at our house in Colorado, and waking up to it and knowing that it had snowed. My dad carefully clearing the front walk, and driving us to school, except the one time I was too stubbourn to let him. I know I can do it, then sliding into a tree hardly halfway there. Now I am lucky enough to be able to stay home when it snows, cuddling with my puppy and shoveling the driveway.
I know that Shelby is not a child, but it seems to me that dogs have the same innocence and excitement over everyday things that makes me feel the same way, best illustrated by my little's time in the backyard. We spent a few minutes when I was done scooping running around the backyard in the dusk that was quickly turning to dark, and I watched her run around, so happy, with just some snow and basketball. I think we can all learn a lesson from that, finding happiness in everything around us.
