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The Blizzard of

The Blizzard of '03



   AOL's opening page this morning, the day after the big snow, showed a check-off on what one likes best about snow.  The choices were: (1) Missing school or work; (2) Beauty of the snow; (3)Playing in it.  I didn't see a choice for me.  Mine would have been: (4) watching other people shovel your sidewalk.  Herewith are some pictures for posterity, of the blizzard of 2003.  They show the appropriateness of the AOL choices.  Bobby and Henry would pick (1) and (3).  Betsy would pick (2) and (3).  And Barbara, no doubt about it, would pick (3).

    There is a rumor making the rounds of the neighborhood.  It's about a petition, a petition to request that the Howard-Carnes family move somewhere else.  West Hartford hasn't experienced a winter as bad as this one, what with the intense cold and the deep snow, since who-knows-when.  Speculation as to the reason for this climatic change understandably focuses on other environmental changes.  Little wonder then that eyes have turned to 75 Fox Chase Ln by way of explanation.  Our arrival in this corner of the world has signaled the worst winter in recent history, and the blizzard is the latest and most vexing blow, literally and figuratively. So we have got to go.

    Just kidding.

    Our next door neighbor has to be restrained in his eagerness to cut a swath through the snow with his snowblower.  The hired hands, on a monthly retainer, come twice and sometimes thrice during and after each snowstorm.  We are getting our money's worth this winter.

Meanwhile the twins frolic in the snow.  We finally had to tell them to stop climbing to the roof of the Chevy Malibu and sliding down the trunk into a puffy quilt of snow.  Robert just arrived in my study to announce that he had burrowed a long tunnel under the three feet of snow.  Betsy is cleaning the Malibu in case we need a chariot to retrieve milk and honey from the supermarket, assuming they are open for business.

    A heavy snowfall is a wonderful thing.  Everyone and everything slows down.  The sole exerciser I've observed this morning slid by on cross country skis.  The inveterate walker, with her orange vest and flashing lights, hasn't passed by... yet. 

    Well, back to the Weather Channel.  I'm excited about the prospect of a heat wave.  The temperature is predicted to rise to thirty-nine degrees tomorrow.  We'll have to clean the snow off the front lawn so that we can see the tulips popping through the soil.




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