Street Theatre

[radfrac_archive_full]

That guy in the tuxedo scarf using a garden rake to clear the snow? Yeah, that's me.

I don't have a snow shovel. The only scarf I own is fringed and has my initials embroidered on it. (It was made by an ex with a flair for fashion design.) I live in a city famous for looking nothing like it does now.

I began because I saw the guy from next door clearing the sidewalk and I thought, oh, right, that's the neighborly thing to do. So I put on my army surplus coat and my runners and my tuxedo scarf and my co-consipirator's gloves and discovered that he'd only cleared the part in front of his house.

The rake worked surprisingly well. I used the tines to break up the packed snow and then moved it along with the back of the rake. I got expert at giving the handle a flick to knock the snow out.

Then I hit on the brilliant idea of making a snowbeing in order to clear the way to the compost. Rolling the balls made a neat, sharp-edged path, and the snowbeing stands sentinel now beside the compost, which should help us find it in the event that the snow keeps falling. So I took care of access and of that responsibility that lies upon us all, to play in the snow when it appears.

To those who have spoken about the benefits of a good sweat for clearing out a cold: very funny. The trees around here are temperate trees. They're not used to holding up all that snow and they keep releasing suprise showers onto unsuspecting rakers. For every drop of sweat, a tear of ice water wrote fever, chills, sinus congestion on my neck.

If it weren't a problem, if none of us had anywhere to go, I'd just leave it. I like the snow. It makes me feel contained and protected, like something valuable wrapped in cotton.

Out there are the marks of my struggle, in neat rows, as though mad mice had plowed the snowfields.

The snow is quietly, gently, silently covering it all up again.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Now I know what the well-dressed writer wears to shov..rake snow! Alas, we are snow-free in Victoria. Here it is green and damp. The newly installed vinyl covering on my deck *looks* like snow that's flecked with black dirt, so I guess that's my fix for this year. (It goes charmingly with the putrid mustard yellow that the building owner's decided to paint the balconies. I'm thinking of recommending them for a spot in "House & Garden".)

Margaret's recipe for clearing out a cold: hot water, fresh lemon juice, and 1 tsp of Cayenne powder. Pound it back, and try not to throw up. Myself, I've only ever managed a dash or two of cayenne, never the whole dose, so be warned... Maybe the mere threat of this will force your immune system into high gear?

cheers, Catherine

I've no idea what the kanji on this means so you get no name

[(Anonymous)]

At this moment, you have given me pause to think about the blessed idea of snow and wonderful memories of snowcreatures. I used to build snowmen when I was young, but as I grew up, they became more and more like Calvin's snow things. Because snow is so rare in Victoria (oh wonderous city with air that is breathable and water that is drinkable) every time there was enough snow to actually create something it became a challenge to make something more fun, more obscure, like pumpkins at Hallowe'en. (As an aside, you should have seen some of the things I came up with in order to escape the triangle-eyed three-square-toothed faces of youth.) I have an extremely fond memory from about 17 of snowmen with detached heads moaning with gaping maws the likes of which you've never seen before strewn across the lawn and others mourning their loss. It was more amusing then. Now it makes me ponder the Saikyo Line sepukku.
How odd how tangents are...

-a